Slave to Her Passions
by Rairakku Hana
Summary: At the center of his web, Aizen pulls at the various threads controlling the lives of two very different people. To survive, they must lean on each other, protect each other, and maybe even learn to love the other. Harem/Male Slave; Ichihime AU
1. Chapter 1

**Slave to Her Passions**

Part 1: The Best Laid Plans

Bleach; Ichihime AU

Word count: 3479

Warning: none

Disclaimer: all characters herein are the property of Kubo Tite.

**~o0o~**

Heat rose from the swirling white sands in hypnotic waves, dancing and swaying across the barren land. The sun beat down from a clear sky, blinding, burning, and deadly. The desert was no place for the weak. Only the strong survived its inhospitable nature.

There was nothing here. Shifting dunes, scorching sun, and brittle trees dominated the harsh scenery. Rocky crags jutted from the ground at odd intervals, providing some semblance of shade and shelter in the unforgiving landscape, and a perfect place to spy on the unsuspecting.

He sat back in the saddle and relaxed when he noticed, there in the distance, a roiling cloud of dust rising along the horizon.

Just what he was looking for.

His sharp teeth gleamed white in the unrelenting sun as he lowered his spyglass. The man's blue eyes crinkled at the corners in delightful expectation. "There they are."

"Are you certain he is among them?"

He brushed his uncommon blue hair out of his eyes and scanned the winding paths below, once more. "Yeah, there's no mistaking that hair anywhere." He said confidently and he returned his glass to the pouch under his woven robes.

"Good. You may proceed, General."

The blue haired general felt a bolt of raw adrenaline surge through him. His maniacal grin grew as his fingers clasped and unclasped the hilt of his sword. Finally, it was time to give that rude bastard back some of his own. Ready to surge forward and let the carnage begin, a firm hand on his forearm roughly hauled him back.

"Remember, Grimmjow, I want him alive."

General Jaegerjaquez watched the haughty man release his arm and turn his horse aside in one easy motion, and he curled his lips in contempt before acquiescing. "Yes, my lord."

His boss and companion left him to proceed with his brutal work and Grimmjow returned to watching the slow progress of carts and wagons traveling through the winding paths below a second longer. His heart raced. His prey waited. It was time.

He pulled the gleaming scimitar from the braided belt at his waist and raised it in the air before bringing it down in a slashing motion.

His signal sent his band of fierce raiders thundering down into the valley towards the unsuspecting caravan.

**~o0o~**

"My lady, get up!"

A busty blonde-haired woman hurried into the dimly lit room, gesturing wildly for her young mistress to put her book down and move. She plucked the tome from the princess's fingers when she didn't move fast enough for her tastes and further chided her protégé in a singsong voice. "Get up, lord Aizen is home."

Rangiku Matsumoto watched the bright, cheerful smile melt off the redheaded princess' face as her words penetrated whatever pleasant daydream her book had inspired. The corners of her lush, mobile mouth tightened as she glanced at the cover and her underdeveloped sense of remorse kicked in. Fairytales. Only her fanciful charge still believed that somewhere out there in this hard, cruel world a handsome prince on a snow white horse was waiting to sweep her off her dainty little feet.

But she knew better. There were no kind-hearted princes. Dreams were a luxury the princess could ill afford in a world where men sought power by any means possible. The only options a woman had to survive were to align herself with a strong, powerful man, which Rangiku had done, without once looking back.

A second companion rose from her chair and narrowed her indigo eyes at the priceless book the blonde woman negligently tossed to the carpeted floor. Rukia Kuchiki, the adopted sister of a noble, she was reserved in manner and watched the world through shrewd eyes. Eyes that had seen too much of the world before Byakuya Kuchiki had generously taken her into his household.

"You wouldn't by chance be eager to see your man again, now would you, Matsumoto."

"Well, there is that, I've missed Gin terribly." Rangiku said unrepentantly as she tugged Princess Orihime to her feet, "but I also heard that the lord has brought home a special gift for our young lady." She playfully pinched Orihime's soft ivory cheek.

Rukia paused with her hand hovering over the discarded book as an apprehensive chill raced down her spine. She glanced up at the confused face of the redheaded princess and bit back her unfavorable reply before muttering under breath. "That surely can't be good."

Rangiku danced around the still figure of the princess, holding up one colored tunic after another and ignored the other woman's comment. "Maybe he is finally going to make you his bride, my lady."

"You can't be serious, can you?" Rukia said, arching a disbelieving brow at the busty, blonde-haired woman.

She silently fumed and placed her armload of books back in the iron bound chest beside the wall. Rangiku's lackadaisical attitude and lax morals often had Rukia grinding her teeth in aggravation. However, the way she deliberately encouraged Orihime to align herself with Aizen was almost more than she could stand.

"How is it that you are unable to see just what kind of man lord Aizen is? Let alone see that your own man is cut from the same cloth."

Rangiku brushed off the petite woman's cutting remark before replying. "Oh, I know Gin does things a little …unorthodoxly. But he is his own man, unlike yours, Rukia."

"B-but you …Renji …" Rukia stammered, feeling irritated and put on the spot by the blonde woman's snide comment. She pulled in a steadying breath before trying to explain the differences in their situations. "There are certain circumstances that you don't know about, Rangiku."

"Regardless of these mysterious circumstances," Rangiku airily waved her hand through the air as a superior smirk curled her lips, "Renji will always be a dog in the service of a stronger master, if not lord Aizen, then to your brother."

"Take that back." Rukia's indigo eyes flashing dangerously as she advanced on the rudely dismissive woman.

"Please, don't argue."

A gentle voice stopped their argument in its tracks. Rukia shared a guilty look with her blonde companion before glancing at the young woman standing near a high arched window. She silently scolded herself for letting Rangiku rile her -yet again- especially when her friend was anxious over their imminent guest. They were supposed to be dressing their charge, not bickering.

Princess Orihime lightly touched the delicate flowered pins in her hair and a warm smile spread across her face as she turned to face her wonderful friends and mentors. "Both the men in your lives have their good qualities. Ichimaru is extremely loyal to his lord, and Renji is both strong and kind."

"Thank you, my lady." Rukia dropped her eyes. The princess always managed to find some good in everyone and everything.

Rukia knelt to tie the bottoms of Orihime's billowing blue silk pants and then fastened jeweled bangles around her trim ankles before standing to look over the princess' outfit with a critical eye.

The lord of the house preferred his pet to be dressed in costly fabrics and jewels when he visited. Not that he actually referred to Orihime as his pet, it was just the feeling she got from watching them. Aizen liked to play with the princess. Not games per say, but with her young impressionable mind. The lord enjoyed taunting and teasing Orihime, praising her with one hand while punishing her with the other, leaving her scared, confused, and defenseless.

The topmost closure on the princess' heavily embroidered brocade vest didn't want to cooperate and refused to fasten. Rukia struggled to bring the two straining halves together over Orihime's impressive breasts before finally securing the gold button. She then barely managed to avoid losing an eye as Orihime flailed her hands in apology.

Rukia assured her friend she didn't have to apologize for every little thing. She twisted her lips in consternation and brushed trailing black bangs out of her eyes. The princess' vest barely contained the young woman's breasts and left her gently rounded stomach bare. Orihime had a figure men coveted and desired. Someday soon, someone would lay claim to that innocent body, probably the lord of the house.

And no matter how much she despised lord Aizen, there was nothing she could do about it.

She frowned darkly at the thought, hating the feeling of being helpless and stepped back as Rangiku slipped a sheer topaz colored silk caftan over the princess' head. She silently admired how stunning Orihime looked in the selected shades of blue and honey gold, all the while wishing to dress her in unflattering clothing, like sackcloth or rough homespun, or maybe, even an all-encompassing djellaba. Anything to keep men's eyes from lingering on the sweetly naïve girl.

Rukia accepted a gold filigree girdle from Rangiku before belting it around the princess' narrow waist. The cloying smell of jasmine and orange blossoms filled the air as she uncapped the cut glass flagon of perfume handed to her. She gave Orihime a reassuring smile and dabbed scent behind her small ears and at her wrists while ignoring the pulse pounding beneath her fingers.

Orihime was scared. Of course, she was. No one ever knew what to expect when the lord was in residence.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind and concentrated on preparing the princess, regardless of her personal feelings. A veil was laid over the princess' long russet hair and her blue jewel clips shaped like flower secured the delicate fabric near her temples.

Rukia wished -not for the first time- she could have mentored this gentle girl under different circumstances. Someone as sweet and loving as the princess deserved more than to be kept as a virtual prisoner in her own home by a counterfeit lord.

A sharp knock at the door had them lifting their heads in surprise. Rangiku cheerily called for them to enter as the women's bodyguard poked his head around the opening.

To say that he was their bodyguard was actually a lie. In truth, he was Rukia's personal guard and a rarity in the women's quarters. Her brother sent Renji Abarai, his trusted lieutenant, to watch over her while she was in this household, and by default, he took over the duties of protecting the princess and her guardian, Rangiku.

"Lord Aizen, has requested an audience with the princess, if it so pleases her."

Rukia met her childhood friend's eyes. Renji's gaze was always pained when pressed to deliver these messages. They both knew that the lord's pretty request was nothing more than a thinly veiled demand. There was no question of the princess denying him. Aizen tolerated disobedience from no one within these marble walls.

**~o0o~**

Swift footsteps moved across the shining tiles. Flashes of color from the extensive gardens appeared through the arched doorways on either side of the long hallway as the two men strode confidently towards their destination. They stepped through a wide arch into the house's covered central courtyard lavishly decorated with ornate walls and ceilings held up by thick stone columns.

"I do hope she likes my surprise." Aizen, lord of Inoue House, said and his silver haired companion chuckled.

"You picked it out especially for her. What's there for her not to like." Gin Ichimaru said as he followed his lord through another set of doors. Dressed as befitting his station in a wide sleeved tawny robe trimmed in burgundy thread, and a gleaming sword belted at his waist. He was a tall and slender man with a crafty disposition and an unsettling smile who had long been in his lord's service. Gin was loyal to his lord, and no one else.

The corner of Aizen's mouth lifted in amusement. He was certain Orihime wouldn't like many things about his gift, and he was anticipating her reaction. He brushed an errant lock of brown hair off his forehead as Gin directed a guard at the end of the hall to open the doors to the mabeyin.

They stepped through without pause into a circular room lined with many doors. A single bench stood against the wall and a domed ceiling decorated with a blue and white tiled mosaic loomed high overhead. Other than a rarely used exception, it was the only way in and out of the harem.

His robe of fine white silk flowed about him as Aizen strode forward. The princess stood outside a pair of richly carved doors on the opposite side of the room. Her two mentors silently flanked her, under the watchful gaze of their scarlet haired guard.

Normally, there were no men allowed inside the women's quarters except for a select few, and those were always eunuchs. However, Renji was a special exception. His unswerving loyalty to his lord, along with his slavish adoration of his lord's petite sister, granted him the privilege of keeping his manhood intact. As long as he had only eyes for the black haired stubborn shrew with the cutting tongue, Aizen would bend tradition and permit him access to the seraglio.

Besides, after today, Aizen intended to refashion tradition to fit his purposes, even further.

His beautiful ward stepped forward to greet him. A vision in rich silks and jewels, Orihime was always a pleasant sight to return home to, other than the fact that her full mouth was set in a straight line, unsmiling.

"Welcome home, my lord."

"Tsk, why such a long face?" Aizen asked smoothly as his long fingers slipped under the edge of her veil to play with a lock of her silky hair. He leaned near, letting his breath brush over her cheek. "You should smile more often, my little bird. Overcast skies blot out the sun and that always brings people's spirits down."

No reaction. It wasn't as if he was expecting one anyway. The princess could very well be fashioned out of ice, instead of the sun he likened her to, for all the life she exhibited. No matter. Aizen wanted the power and riches that came with her name. She would be the perfect wife, of noble birth, powerful family ties to the sultanate, and utterly submissive. There was just one final plan he wanted to bring to fruition.

"It was recently brought to my attention that there are some gaps in your education."

Orihime blinked at him in silence and ran the tip of her pink tongue over her bottom lip, giving herself a moment to gather her courage, "In what way am I lacking, my lord?"

"I would never think to criticize your late brother, but your old mentor, Hinamori, was remiss in not teaching you how to best please your future husband. Women your age are normally already married or under the protection of another." His dark eyes moved pointedly from Rukia's tightly disapproving face to the gleefully smirking face of her blonde companion.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a parody of a smile as he turned back to face Orihime. "I wouldn't want you to feel in any way inferior or self-conscious when you go to your husband, so I have made arrangements to resolve this matter." Aizen said, his eyes never leaving hers as he called for his general to enter.

Grimmjow swaggered into the room with a victorious grin, prodding a hooded figure forward with the sheathed end of his sword. He stopped a few feet from his lord and kicked his prisoner in the back of the knees, sending him crashing to the floor before he roughly pulled the white linen sack from his captive's head with a flourish.

Blindfolded and with a filthy gag stuffed into his mouth, the prisoner kneeled on the hard tiles, frozen, his only motion was his nose flaring with each breath he took. Grimmjow threaded long fingers through his captive's unbelievable shock of orange hair and tugged the kneeling man's head back, exposing his sweat-streaked throat and heaving chest, his once fine tunic hanging in tatters off his muscled shoulders.

"A gift for you, my little bird," Aizen captured Orihime's eye before dropping his gaze meaningfully to the man bound in front of them, "your own personal slave."

.

.

.

Her wide brown eyes followed Aizen's sweeping hand as he gestured to the man on the floor. "My lord, you're not serious." Orihime said with a choked voice. She was horrified he thought to buy her a slave.

The orange haired man drew her attention as he strained against Grimmjow's hold to turn his head towards her. She felt her heart break over his unfortunate circumstances. She wasn't naïve. Orihime knew that owning slaves was an accepted part of their culture, but it was abhorrent practice to her. She didn't want any part of it.

"I would have expected you to be more grateful, Orihime."

A chill ran down her spine. The fight died out of her as quickly as it had risen at Aizen's use of her given name. It was an unspoken threat, an order, one she was quick to obey.

"I-I am grateful." Orihime submissively dropped her head and stared at the tiles through tear-filled eyes. "Thank you for your generosity." She was afraid to speak further; she knew another word from her mouth would mean this man's death. A horribly painful death, one Aizen would force her to witness.

"Good. I want you to bed him." Aizen stated bluntly before continuing, paying no attention as her eyes bugged out and her face flushed with bright color. "You are to learn what pleases you, and then -in turn- learn how to give pleasure to a man."

What? Her breath stalled painfully in her chest. Bed him? She was numb. Completely numb. Frozen. She heard Rukia gasp in horror while her blonde-haired mentor on her right chuckled, probably well amused by the lord's immoral order.

"You're giving my prey to this woman," Grimmjow said dismissively, his flashing blue eyes raking over her tense figure, "to use as a love slave?" He yanked his captive back further, bowing his restrained body in an uncomfortable arc and muffled shouts could be heard from behind the gag.

"You may leave us, General Jaegerjaquez." Aizen lifted brown eyes to spear his subordinate with a direct gaze, letting him know that he heard his complaint, but chose to ignore them, as always. "I have no further need of your services today."

Grimmjow's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword before he noticed Gin step out from behind his lord, an anticipatory smile spreading across his face. He ground his teeth together and released his grip on his prey. His hard gaze flicked from to the orange haired man at his feet to the pale faced princess before he turned on his heel and stomped from the room.

"As you wish, my lord."

**~o0o~**

Soft golden light illuminated the hunched figure of a well-built man sitting in a chair. Important papers littered his desk, forgotten and relegated to the far corners of his mind as he stared thoughtfully into the fire. He rolled his glass between big calloused palms, not even looking up at the whisper of sound coming from the doorway.

He drained his drink set it aside without removing his gaze from the flickering flame. "Did you find out where he was taken?"

"Yes, I was able to follow undetected." His visitor carefully unwound the dark linen obscuring her –undeniably- female features. Her dark hair, rich with purple hues, was pulled into a high ponytail with loose tendrils dancing around her expressive face.

Yoruichi Shihōin smiled deviously as she dropped her lithe body into a nearby chair. "Those caravan raiders were more than what they first appeared to be. They weren't your normal desert marauders."

The fire light played over his square jaw and sparse black beard as he curiously turned to face Yoruichi, "In what way?"

"They are working for someone else." A second visitor answered as he too stepped into the circle of light. Kisuke Urahara slowly pulled off the black hood covering his narrow face and ran his fingers through shaggy blonde hair that matched the scuff on his chin.

He returned his gaze to the dancing fire as he turned this new puzzle over in his mind. The room was silent until he glanced between Kisuke and Yoruichi and arched a questioning brow, "Any idea who?"

Yoruichi nodded her head in the affirmative and draped an arm over her upraised knee. "You're not going to like it." She said idly while twirling a small silver dagger from a fingertip.

"I will not abandon my son." His powerful fist came crashing down on the carved arm of his chair. Dark eyes that normally crinkled with amusement narrowed as he stared at his trusted friends. "Tell me."

"Yes, my lord Isshin."

**~o0o~**

Hope you enjoyed it, and yes, the rating will not stay at a T.

Remember, reviews are like little pieces of candy-coated motivation, kind of like skittles, only better. XD

Until next time, thanks for reading ~Rairakku


	2. Chapter 2

**Slave to Her Passions**

Part 2: Brought to their knees

Bleach; Ichihime AU

Word count: 7142

Warning: T+; cursing, minor adult situations

Disclaimer: all characters herein are the property of Kubo Tite.

**~o0o~**

The bound captive felt himself breathe just a little easier as soon as that blue-haired son of a goat left. He was blindfolded, and had -what he believed was- a piece of Grimmjow's filthy cloak crammed in his mouth, but he was alive. Alive meant there was still a chance to escape.

Then, he was going to pay that bad-tempered bastard back for this humiliation.

He heard a silky voice direct someone to remove his blindfold and tensed in readiness before forcibly reminding himself relax. He tried to look as nonthreatening as possible and waited. Ever since Grimmjow attacked the caravan, he'd been waiting. His patience was now at an end. He wanted faces to go with these voices, especially this woman he was now enslaved to.

He snorted quietly and scoffed at that ridiculous thought, as if he'd ever be someone's slave. He was Ichigo Kurosaki, Sheik Isshin As'ad Kurosaki's only son and heir. He was no man's slave. Let alone a woman's. Furthermore, he would never sink so low as to be called someone's love slave. The lord of this house must have maggots for brains, if he thought Grimmjow captured a man who would willingly go along with this madness.

This princess would have to kill him before Ichigo would service her. Let her bed his corpse. And good luck with that. If the many beautiful women his father threw at his head in the hopes of enticing him to marry hadn't tempted him in the least, then this princess wouldn't either. Aizen would have to find stud-service elsewhere; he wasn't putting out.

He instinctively tensed when someone moved behind him and loosened the knotted material binding his eyes with little care for his comfort. He wanted to see this woman with his own eyes. Ichigo assumed that there was a good reason she hadn't been bedded as of yet. She was probably ugly as sin and possessing a spoiled temperament to match. Even if she were a princess, no man would wish to marry a woman with such obvious faults as that.

The blindfold fell away from his eyes and Ichigo blinked against the bright light. He didn't pause to admire the circular room, or the intricately designed mosaic. The slender woman standing before him captured his gaze and his interest.

He had never seen such a beautiful woman before. And for some reason, that pissed him off.

Large doe-brown eyes cautiously watched him in return as the princess peeked at him over the edge of a silken veil. A strong feeling of destiny sent a shiver racing down his spine. Ichigo pushed it from his mind, he didn't wish to explore, or even acknowledge, such an unsettling sensation.

Instead, he glanced at the brown haired man tightly gripping the woman's arm. He was undoubtedly the spider at the center of this tangled web, lord Aizen himself.

Aizen's eyes flicked over him with triumph before he released the princes and turned to relay instructions to the guard and the two women behind her. Ichigo knew that he really should pay attention since it likely had to do with him, but he was looking for some telling flaw in this redheaded woman. There had to be something. Why else would Aizen go to these lengths?

The noticeable swell of her breasts was visible through the sheer fabric of her caftan and drew his eyes to one of her most defining features. They were high, well rounded, and more than enough to generously fill a man's large hands. He dropped his gaze to mentally measure the narrowness of her waist. Ichigo was certain that he could span it easily with his hands before visually tracing over the womanly flare of her hips down to the pointed toes of her silk slippers.

Unfamiliar heat uncoiled in the pit of his stomach. His scowl grew darker as he shifted restlessly and glanced back up her curvy body. His eyes followed long flowing hair the color of sunset from her waist, up to a delicate heart-shaped face partially hidden behind a transparent veil. Even Ichigo had to admit, she looked like absolute perfection.

What was the catch?

With Gin following a step behind, Aizen left them after first dropping a quick whisper in the princess's ear. Ichigo worked the stiffness from his jaw as the gag was removed and wondered what Aizen said to make her pale. A threat most likely. Even while blindfolded, he heard the implicit command in Aizen's silky speech as he presented the princess with his gift, and felt the underlying menace in his words at her initial refusal.

All Ichigo knew at this point was that he was now the love slave to a woman who looked as if she had no idea what to do with him.

Surely, heaven was frowning down on him today.

Rangiku trailed after her lover while the rest of them stood as still as statues until the sound of a door on the opposite side closed with a resonate thud.

"What do we do with him?" Renji turned to Rukia and jerked his thumb in the direction of their scowling addition.

"Don't worry about that right now." She cuffed him upside the head and gestured towards the pale woman on the other side of the room. "Get the princess a drink. Can't you see she's about to faint?"

Ichigo's eyes followed her outstretched arm back to his new mistress. Delayed reaction most likely, he assumed as a tight frown curled the corners of his mouth. The princess was probably in shock lord Aizen commanded her to sleep with someone as lowly as a common slave.

"Breathe, Orihime, breathe!" Rukia took the young woman by the shoulders and shook her.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the overdone dramatics. He went on a trip to escape the overly emotional behavior at home and was now saddled with another spoiled child after being kidnapped.

Heaven really wasn't favoring him at all today.

The princess snapped back to attention, gasping for breath before focusing on her friend's concerned face. "I-I'm fine." Orihime closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself before reassuring her mentor. "I'm fine, Rukia. Sorry for worrying you."

"I've told you before, don't apologize."

"Oh yes, sorry." Orihime said unthinkingly. She kneaded the back of her neck and blushed at the look of exasperation Rukia sent her way.

The black haired woman merely threw her hands in the air, muttering about some things never changing before throwing open the doors to the women's quarters.

Ichigo followed and entered a glittering world unlike any he had ever known. He gawked at the lavishly decorated room piled with thick cushions. Satin and brocade couches were placed to one side of the bright room. There were low tables covered with bowls of fruit, baskets of sweetmeats, and a surprising collection of books sat near each couch while jewel toned pillows of silk and velvet were scattered over the thickly carpeted floor.

His steps slowed as he stared in confusion at the splashes of bright colors painting over his skin. Ichigo tilted his head back and his eyes went wide at the sight of hundreds of colored prisms hanging from the ceiling. It was completely impractical and out of place in the ornately designed room. But as his new mistress turned to glance back at him, a multitude of colors danced playfully over her curvy frame, and he grudgingly admitted that maybe it wasn't foolish, after all.

An uncomfortable blush burned his cheeks as he looked around. Ichigo noticed that Renji had returned with a small lacquered tray bearing a pitcher and a goblet. He smacked his lips; he could almost taste the refreshing liquid. His eyes followed Rukia's every motion as she accepted a brimming full cup from the guard and gracefully moved to the princess' side, admonishing to young woman to drink.

The princess unhooked her veil from one side of her face, allowing it to hang free, and took the cup with a murmur of thanks. She peeked through her lashes and watched him in silence as she sipped.

Orihime lowered the drink with a brisk nod of her head as she came to a decision. She held out the cup to him and stared up at him through guileless eyes. "You must be thirsty."

To say Ichigo was surprised was an understatement. His scowl deepened, careful not to let his expression show his astonishment, and wondered why she was bothering talking to him. He narrowed his eyes in the hopes of intimidating the spoiled princess.

It was almost too easy.

In a matter of seconds, the princess shifted uncertainly from foot to foot as she chewed on that plush bottom lip of hers. Ichigo felt smug. His glare always made those empty-headed women run away, and this princess wasn't any different. Vain. Foolish. Self-seeking. Soon, she would turn her back and leave, and her brief show of concern for his wellbeing quickly forgotten.

"Renji, can you untie him, please. He can't take the cup with his hands bound like that."

Ichigo was certain he heard wrong. She was supposed to be scared of him, like everyone else, and leave him alone.

Renji denied her request, something about Aizen's orders, and Ichigo narrowed his eyes when she stepped closer and lifted the glass to his mouth.

He hesitated for only a second. His dry mouth and throat quickly overruled his pride and he took a drink of the cool liquid. Ichigo let the apricot nectar sit in his mouth and coat his parched tongue before unthinkingly allowing his gaze to move over the face before him.

She watched him in return from under lightly furrowed brows. Thick dark lashes shyly fluttered closed before opening again to reveal those gentle brown eyes of hers.

The warmth her gaze imparted swiftly died at the sight of pity lurking in their depths. He trembled with the beginnings of rage. Does she think she was better than he was? Ichigo silently fumed before spitting his mouthful of juice back in her perfect face.

He hit the ground a second later. Ichigo tried to defend himself against the blows Renji and Rukia rained down on him, but his bound hands hindered him. If they'd untie him, he would gladly give them a fight to remember. He'd been simmering for a week now, ever since Grimmjow had attacked his caravan and taken him prisoner. He was ready to burn off a whole load of frustration.

"Please, stop."

Rukia snuck in one last kick to his unprotected stomach. Ichigo grunted in response and peered up from his position on the floor as Renji stepped back. The princess was standing over them with her hands held out, her gaze imploring as juice continued to drip from her chin. He licked his bloody lip and watched the indigo-eyed spitfire dry Orihime's face with a square of linen. A small seed of guilt germinated in the pit of his gut as the princess apologized for the mess.

He awkwardly rolled to his side and shook off Renji's hand on his shoulder as he sat up. With his long legs splayed before him, Ichigo wondered what punishment the princess would order. He wasn't certain what the penalty was for spitting in a noble's face, but he was sure it was something more severe than the gentle look of concern he was receiving as Orihime cautiously kneeled between his spread legs.

"My lady …"

"It's all right, Rukia. There's no harm done." The princess waved off her friend's concern and carefully daubed at his split lip with the same cloth used to dry her face. Orihime cleaned him up the best she could while fidgeted under his piercing stare before offering the cup, again.

Ichigo was ready to tell her what she could do with the cursed cup, her unnecessary concern, and this whole arrangement. However, he bit back the virulent words when she murmured the one word guaranteed to make him give in.

"Please."

In that moment, she reminded him of someone, her stoicism, her gentleness, her patience. The cup nudged against his split lip once again, and he lost his train of thought. Ichigo watched worry creep into her eyes when he made no move to accept her offering and he felt that germinating seed expand as guilt flooded his system. He parted his lips with a defeated groan and drank greedily, desperate to wash the grit from his mouth and parched throat.

Orihime lowered the now empty glass, sat back on her heels between his outstretched legs, and smiled. A blindingly bright smile, one that lit up her whole face and the sight unexpectedly dazzled him.

What a strange woman.

Earlier, Ichigo would have sworn that she was cold and conforming, but now he wondered if his first impression was correct. She seemed completely different, lighthearted and considerate of others in the presence of Rukia and Renji.

Which one was the real princess?

Rangiku bound into the room and blinked at the crackling tension. She glanced between Renji and Rukia, and the princess and him before shrugging her shoulders, appearing to be not even interested in what happened.

The older woman pasted a smile on her face and glided to her protégés side. "You're dripping wet." She held up a damp strand of hair between two fingers before easily hauling Orihime to her feet. "I can't leave you alone for even a minute."

Rukia's eyes flicked down to him, running over his ruined clothes and unwashed body. She turned to a door hidden in the wall and spoke over her shoulder as she left the room. "I'll call the serving maids to ready a bath for the new slave."

Rangiku nodded as the curtain swished closed behind the young Kuchiki before removing the princess' jeweled belt and veil, being careful of Orihime's hairpins. She laid the items aside and glanced at the two uncomfortable men still in the room. "You can leave, Renji." She didn't even wait for Renji to bolt from the room before efficiently pulling the stained caftan over Orihime's head and allowed the discarded fabric to flutter to the floor

The princess, now standing before him in nothing but a short vest and loose pantaloons, blushed and covered her chest with her hands, stammering, "Umm, Rangiku."

"Put your hands down. I can't undo these clasps with them in the way." Rangiku said in exasperation before efficiently flipping open the two small gold buttons holding the sleeveless blue brocade vest together.

Orihime clasped the two halves together before her breasts could spill free and glanced down at him with wide eyes. She paled when she saw he was staring back, except his dark eyes were focused just south of her chin. "B-but …"

Rangiku followed the princess' frantic gaze and her lips curved into a delightful smile. "What, him?" She waved away Orihime's embarrassment with a regal flick of her hand. "Think nothing of him. He is a slave, your possession, nothing more than a piece of furniture."

"What are you doing?" Rukia rushed into the room, glaring at the older woman and him, looking as if she would like to kill them both. She instead tugged the red-faced princess from Rangiku's hold and ushered her behind a tall, carved screen in the corner. "I wish you would have a care with her. Orihime is a complete innocent, after all."

Her cold blue-eyed gaze glanced from the screen, hiding the two younger women from view, to the blushing man kneeling in silence on the floor, and a wicked smirk curled Rangiku's full pink lips.

"Innocent you say? She won't be for long."

**~o0o~**

"You probably wish to know why you've been called. So, let's begin." Urahara clapped his hands together, requesting everyone's attention. He gazed out at the room from under shaggy blonde bangs and watched as those gathered took their seat at the long table in the center of the dimly room.

"One of our caravans has been massacred and the lord's son kidnapped."

"The fool let himself get captured." Scoffing, a young man plucked the pair of _pince-nez_ from his nose and carefully polished the lenses before flicking cobalt blue eyes to his silent companion. "Why does this not surprise me?"

Yasutora Sado shook his head. As a childhood friend of Ichigo's, the giant of a man felt compelled to speak up for his closest friend and replied to the blue-eyed archer's contemptuous comments. "I'm certain there is much we don't know, Uryu. There are not many men that could take on Ichigo, and live to tell about it."

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

All eyes in the room turned to stare at Yoruichi as she unfolded her lithe frame from her chair and restlessly moved to stand behind the Kurosaki's chief strategist at the head of the table.

Urahara made room for Yoruichi to stand beside him and watched the room's occupants shift uneasily in their chairs as they began to realize the seriousness of the situation. "Yes, General Jaegerjaquez, an officer of Inoue house. Unfortunately, there is already bad blood between our house and theirs, so I don't expect them to return Ichigo without a fight."

A tall muscular man with chin length black hair slouched back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at Urahara. The Inoue family had already hurt his family too much, and now they dared take his cousin, as well. "I thought The Inoue was already dead? Didn't their feud die with us along with that filthy spawn of a jackal?" Ganju Shiba growled in irritation, impatient for answers.

"One would think so." Yoruichi stated darkly as she tapped a slender finger against her cheek, clearly deep in thought. "Although, Sora Inoue mysteriously died before he could answer for the crimes committed against our house, he did leave behind a younger sister." She looked down at the table as she relayed this last part, playing with the small silver dagger she kept on her, all the while.

"Is she the one behind this, then?" A young man asked from the end of the table. Toshiro Hitsugya was older than he first appeared and was a genius strategist, cool under pressure and a fearless fighter. Just what they needed in this instance.

Urahara shared a look with the woman beside him and nodded in agreement when Yoruichi shook her head firmly in the negative. "We don't believe this is an act of revenge on her part, but someone within the house did order the attack on our caravan and targeted Ichigo specifically."

Yoruichi unrolled the map her assistant, Tatsuki, handed her across the table and traced a slender finger over the detailed chart from their current position to a small dot hidden within the desert's sands. "Hisagi, we want you to travel to this village, four leagues from Meknes, and set up shop in the local souk."

A black haired man halfway down the table stood. Three long scars bisected the right side of his face, memento from a long dead enemy's gauntlet, giving him a stern uncompromising look.

"Blend in, gather information, and perform the necessary surveillance. Understand?"

"Completely." Hisagi Shūhei said with a crisp nod of his head before rolling up the notes he had taken. He tucked the scroll into the braided belt around his waist and looked to his lord, assuring him. "I will go, at once."

Isshin rose from his chair by the window, looking haggard despite his crisp turban and flowing white robe. He held up a hand to keep the young man from leaving just yet. He was grateful for the unquestioning support of his friends and allies, but he would not let this young man go alone. There was more at stake here than anyone yet knew.

He swept his arm out and gestured to the person sitting behind him. "There is one more traveling with you."

Their features were backlit by the blinding white sun, giving away no hint of their identity; they were nothing more than a silent silhouette. Stepping forward at lord Isshin's urging, long wavy hair floated like a nimbus cloud around straight set shoulders.

The sun's glare receded to reveal the form of a voluptuous woman with unusual smudges upon her face and oddly colored hair.

The hum of voices filled the room as those gathered wondered what lord Isshin was thinking. With one of his children already captured, why would he risk sending his adopted daughter, too?

**~o0o~**

Rukia watched with pained eyes as the silk clothed figure of the princess disappeared through the arched opening leading to the hammam. She kept a tenuous hold on her temper and flicked her indigo eyes to the smirking blonde lounging among the scattered pillows on the floor.

"Orihime doesn't need to be in there to oversee the slave's bath."

Rangiku fished another sugared date from a bowl set amid the pillows and licked the fruit's sticky residue from the edge of her finger before nibbling on her sweet. She lifted her brows at the repetitive tapping sound and glanced up in inquiry. Taking her time, she finished eating her date before answering the impatient Kuchiki heiress. "Yes, she does. Lord Aizen told me to teach her everything I know …"

"Well, that won't take long."

She ignored the petite woman's interruption and tilted her chin in the air as she finished her sentence. "…about men, and giving and receiving pleasure."

When had Matsumoto fell so low as to willingly participate in Aizen's sick plan? Rukia shook her head from side to side and glared at the other woman. "I won't allow you to corrupt her. Surely you see this is wrong."

"Lord Aizen knew you'd feel this way."

A chill ran down Rukia's spine as she froze in surprise. She drew in a tight breath, slowly turning, and came face to face the slyly smiling man behind her.

Aizen's trusted steward, Gin Ichimaru stood just inside the opened double door. He watched her with a calculating gaze as Rangiku squealed in delight and bounded to his side.

Rukia hadn't even heard him enter. That was pure carelessness on her part. Sheknew better, having been trained by circumstances from an early age to always be alert and vigilant. This household could be every bit as treacherous as the back streets and alleys of the royal city, possibly more so.

She tried to disguise her unease at being so close to him and forced back an instinctive shiver while standing her ground. "Lord Aizen knew I'd disagree with this, and yet he's still intent on forcing the princess into such a situation without qualm. Isn't he, Ichimaru?"

"You are welcome to disagree with his decision, Rukia."

"And I do most vehemently disagree-"

"Although," Ichimaru talked over her, not acknowledging a word she spoke, "starting tomorrow, Rangiku will begin instructing our innocent flower in the ways men. If you choose to interfere, hamper, or hold up the process in any manner, lord Aizen has left instructions for you to be sent back to your brother's home, posthaste," Gin paused for effect, his lips slowly curling into a taunting smirk before purring, "Without your dear Renji in tow."

**~o0o~**

"I wouldn't, if I was you."

Ichigo turned from –what he believed was- a surreptitious examination of the bathing room's entrances and exits, and scowled at the guard. His muscles tensed as he mentally sized Renji up, figuring he could take him, easily.

"I'm not the only warrior here." Renji said casually, as if reading his mind. He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his tattooed chest, returning his scowl with one of his own before pointing out. "Both Rangiku and Rukia are trained fighters. You wouldn't get far. Remember that, slave."

He drew in a breath through his nose and ground his teeth together. Ichigo kept his thoughts to himself, refusing to speak as he eyed the blade belted to Renji's waist and wondered what that gutless son of a pig, Grimmjow, did with his own trusted sword. He felt its loss keenly, as if he was missing his right arm. Being alone, in an enemy holding, and weaponless did not sit well with him.

His father would be rendered silent if he could see his son now. Normally rash, impulsive, and hot-tempered, Ichigo was for once attempting to keep his rage in check and plan an escape. He could be patient, bide his time and wait for them to drop their guard. Then, for each embarrassment he suffered, each blow dealt him, he would pay it back tenfold.

Ichigo massaged the rope burns cut into his skin and continued to look around his surroundings. It wasn't much different from home. There was an array of benches and piles of silken pillows scattered around the sunken tub in the center of the room. A bowl of oranges and burning incense sat on a low table along the wall, and the smell of citrus and scented smoke twined through wisps of steam rising from the ewers of heated water.

A delight for the senses to be sure, but he wasn't interested in the role Aizen wished for him to play. Not even for a beautiful princess.

"Princess," Renji snapped to attention, staring at the young woman with horrified eyes, "what are you doing here?"

Orihime fidgeted just inside the arched opening and cringed from the unmistakable censure she heard in Renji's voice. With her eyes trained on the white tiled floor, she gestured with a weak flutter of her hand in his direction. "Rangiku told me to oversee h-his bath."

Ichigo turned to face the stammering woman fully. This had gone far enough. That he had to bathe in the woman's quarters was already an insult to his dignity. However, the thought of this disconcerting princess standing over him and inspecting his naked body while he did so, pushed him well past his limit.

"You will not watch me bathe. I forbid it." Ichigo said succinctly, his voice raspy from misuse as he advanced on her.

He gained a sick sense of enjoyment from the way the princess jerked her head up to stare at him, her eyes widened, her plush lips parted in shock. Something about this woman just caused his temper to snap. He wanted to shake her until she voiced her complaints over this abnormal situation. Her quiet, unquestioning acceptance of Aizen's immoral orders irritated him beyond anything he'd ever felt before.

"You have no say in this matter." Renji said in defense of the princess before cuffing him on the back of the head and yanking him away from the young woman. "If the princess wishes to watch you bathe, tell you to stand on your head, or shave that offensive hair off, as her slave, you have no choice but to obey."

.

.

.

It was the first time she'd heard his voice. It was deep and scratchy, probably from being gagged for so long, but still forceful and confident. Orihime snapped her slack jaw closed and blinked in realization that it appealed to her greatly.

She shook away such thoughts and searching for a spot furthest from the bath to observe. "Is it all right if I sit over here?" She pointed with a trembling finger to a bench set back from the pool, almost hidden in shadows. Orihime wrung her hands together and apologetically glanced between Renji and her new slave as they continued to glare at each other. "I promise not to watch."

"My lady, you don't have to ask his permission for anything. He's your slave, remember?" Renji blew out a breath before sweeping out an arm, gesturing to the blue silk cushions piled next to the sunken tub. "You can sit here and direct his every move if you so desire."

"Eh?" Her eyes went wide at the thought and her natural sense of curiosity was stirred.

Orihime's breathing grew shallow as her gaze darted to her slave's half-covered body. She'd never actually seen a naked man before, only drawings in a book of Rangiku's. She unconsciously drank in the sight of muscles rippling under smooth sun kissed skin and felt lightheaded from the almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and lay her fingers against the stranger's chest.

She waved her hand in front of her, denying the offer. Guilty color stained her cheeks as she jerked her eyes away from the tempting sight and took a shaky step back. "T-the bench is close enough."

"Fine. Do what you want."

Sporting identical blushes, their eyes met for an instant and an uncomfortable awareness sprang to life between them. Something nebulous moved in the depths of their eyes.

Her heart hammered in her chest and she spun on her heel at the same time her slave did, giving each other their backs.

She scurried to the bench and dropped onto it with a sigh, knowing that her trembling legs wouldn't hold her up much longer. She pressed her fist to her wildly beating heart and wished she knew what just happened. His dark eyes mesmerized her, making her feel things she never felt before.

Orihime heard a splash and peeked over her shoulder. Her eyes followed the trail of tattered clothes to the very edge of the pool and she caught a glimpse of bright orange locks as the scowling man threw his head back with a drawn-out groan, sending water spraying through the air.

She bit her lip, holding in a groan of her own and turned back to face the mosaic covered wall in front of her. She squeezed her eyes shut, shutting out temptation, and chastised herself for being so vulgar as to peek at a stranger in his bath. Her brother would be sorely ashamed of her slack morals. He raised her to act better than this.

Nevertheless, that didn't change the fact that her cheeks were flushed with hot color, her breathing labored. Nor did it keep her from desperately wanting to steal another peek at the fascinating scowling man.

Orihime squirmed on the hard bench, fighting with her base self until she heard her slave moan in appreciation of the sinfully hot water as he rinsed his lean muscled body. She pressed the palm of her hand to her stomach as a flicker of unfamiliar heat speared through her and settled uncomfortably low in her belly.

What was happening to her?

Returning from her evening walk around the gardens with Rukia later in the day, Orihime giggled over one of her friend's dry observations as they parted the curtains to her room. Her amusement died away, leaving behind an awkward silence as she paused just inside the arched doorway and stared at the two men near the foot of her bed.

She felt as if she was interrupting something and cautiously entered a room ripe with tension. Why were they in her chamber at this time of day? It was night, time to ready themselves for bed, not …

Her eyes widen as the situation became clear. Renji was tying the orange haired stranger to her sleeping couch. They would not only be sleeping in the same room, but practically in the same bed, too.

"This isn't necessary," her brows furrowed with worry as she turned pleading eyes on Renji, "Is it?"

"I'm sorry, my lady," Renji looped and knotted the final knot before stepping away from the bound man. He shared look with Rukia before turning his face away. "Lord Aizen ordered your slave to be with you at all times, and to be bound to your bed at night."

"B-but …" Orihime chewed on the edge of her lip and stole a glance the orange haired man.

Dressed as he was now, in a linen shirt carelessly laced at the throat and loose black pantaloons, she was having difficulty keeping her eyes off him. This stranger was so different from anyone she'd ever met. His intense eyes. His funny scowls. His beautiful hair. He made her feel alive for the first time since her brother died, and these chaotic feelings frightened her.

She wanted to demand he sleep elsewhere, or she sleep elsewhere. But Orihime held her tongue. She could tell a threat was already leveled against Rukia. Her mentor hadn't offered one word of protest since earlier when Rangiku tried to strip her bare. Instead, Orihime caught her watching Renji when the tattooed guard was unaware with an unfathomable look in her eyes.

Orihime steeled herself for the trials still to come. She had to be strong for her friends and protect them for once, regardless of the outcome. Even if it meant letting a stranger sleep in her room.

"He'll need a pillow and blankets."

.

.

.

Ichigo rolled his eyes at her insignificant worry and leaned a shoulder against her sleeping couch as Rukia pulled the princess behind another carved screen. Foolish woman. With what Aizen had planned for her, Orihime should worry more for her own welfare, than wasting concern on him.

Besides, he wasn't so weak that he required soft bedding. It's not as if he hadn't slept in worse places over the years than the cool clean tiles of her bedroom. Even the scratchy, musty smelling straw of the stables back home was paradise compared to the sharp rocks and gritty sand he had for a bed while traveling to this place with Grimmjow.

The soft swoosh of material and the quiet sound of voice from behind the wooden screen caught his attention and drew his thought away from their sleeping arrangements. Ichigo tried to eavesdrop, curious what instructions that black-haired spitfire was giving the princess when his eyes focused on a carved cutout in the screen. He caught a glimpse of rosy skin and gently rounded curves.

He forgot about the other woman's presence and jerked his eyes from the intriguing sight of soft feminine curves as hearty laughter filled the room. Ichigo's cheeks flushed with bright color and he tried to slow the wild beating of his heart. He should be planning an escape, not sneaking a peek at his captor's silky looking skin.

Rangiku folded back the blankets on the princess' sleeping couch and tossed a pillow aside with sly smile. "You're going to have to get over that adorable shyness of yours."

Ichigo looked up to see that infernally grinning blonde-haired woman slowly sash shay to the end of the bed and gritted his teeth.

She watched him intently, as a spider does a captured fly. "Lord Aizen has left her with little option but to do as he commands, and he wants her to gain experience using your young, virile body as the tool." Rangiku slipped the tip of a finger between her lush lips as her eyes slowly moved over his restrained body. "That's no hardship to my mind; Orihime should experience many wondrous delights with you."

Ichigo struggled to keep his involuntary blush in check until the princess darted out from behind the screen. She jumped into bed and the white fabric of her sleeping gown billowed out, uncovering more than it concealed. Orihime slapped down the material with a mortified squeak. Her anxious eyes lifted to meet his as she tugged jewel colored covers up to her chin.

He stared at her blindly. From where he sat, he had a perfect view of her long lithe legs and creamy white thighs. They would be etched in his memory forever, not to mention the illicit view of her smooth feminine mound and toned stomach, all topped by the enticing hint of fully rounded breasts. Swallowing, Ichigo silently admitted the princess truly had the body of a houri; she was exquisitely made for a man's pleasure.

Husky chuckles spilled from the mouth of the busty blonde-haired woman and he dropped his eyes to the floor, fighting against the urge to look at the princess once more. She could easily fuel a man's fantasies for a hundred years, up until he departed this world for paradise.

The hanging oil lamps were extinguished, one by one, and darkness filled the room. Before leaving them alone, Rangiku nudged a dawdling Rukia through the door and left the two redheads with an admonishment to enjoy all the pleasures the night affords.

The hours of night passed slowly.

Ichigo played Rangiku's parting words over in his mind as he carefully chewed on his bonds, trying to loosen the braided leather with his teeth. Yes, he was enjoying the night's pleasures to the fullest. He grumbled and cursed these irritating knots under his breath.

It would have been much easier if he hadn't struggled and tried to pull free earlier. The knots were now so tight he'd need a knife to free himself. Ichigo could almost hear his younger sister chiding him for his impatience while her twin laughed over the predicament he managed to get himself into.

The devil take it! He needed to get home before Yuzu and Karin started to worry, let alone his adopted sister. Who knew what impulsive plan she might embark on if he tarried in his return.

His fool of a father didn't merit a mention. The old goat was probably tucked away in his cozy library celebrating the fact his only son, and heir, wasn't there to nag him over his infantile behavior. Ichigo never understood what his mother ever saw in him.

It had to have been an arranged marriage. That's the only explanation that he'd accept. Someone as gentle and kind, let alone as beautiful, as his mother couldn't have chosen to marry that old goat on purpose. His mother …

He bit back a growl of frustration and regret. Ichigo rested his forehead on the cool tiles beneath him, remembering and mourning the woman who gave him life. Had it been a year already? It felt much longer than that. And yet, at the same time, it was still a fresh wound, jagged, throbbing, and tender.

He slammed his bound fists against the floor as fresh resolve flowed through him, strengthening him. He had to get home. Ichigo would not allow his sisters to cry like that again. He couldn't let them believe that he was dead. It was time for them to throw off their mourning and start to live again, and not grieve for him prematurely.

The leather restraints resisted his renewed attack until he calmed down. Ichigo methodically worked the topmost knot free before moving to the next. That guard, Renji just had to do a thorough job of tying him up. That filthy son of a jackal! Once he was free, he'd make him pay for each indignity he suffered today, starting with Renji encouraging the princess to take a front row seat while he bathed.

Ichigo did not want the perplexing woman anywhere near him, especially while he was naked. What an embarrassing ordeal. The first of many, unless he escaped.

A whisper of sound drew him from his struggles, warning him, alerting him of impending danger. Ichigo sensed someone approaching and stilled his movements. His eyes swept over the shadowed floor, watching as the sheer drapes at the arched opening lifted and twirled on the night's breeze.

All was quiet. The white marble fountain splashing outside in the courtyard, along with the chirping of insects and the lonely call of a night bird were the only sounds he heard.

With all his senses on alert, he strained his ears before flicking his eyes to his left. There. In the deep shadows surrounding the lacquered chests and small caskets lining the far wall, he detected movement. Ichigo lay motionless and feigned sleep as cautious footsteps drew near.

The muscles in his legs tensed, ready to spring forward. Ichigo knew his bound hands would hinder him, but he hoped to use the element of surprise to gain him favor. With his palms flat against the cool tile, ready to push off, he listened as bare feet moved from the thick carpet to slap against tile, all the while thinking that the steps sounded much too light to be a man.

A pent-up breath escaped slowly and Ichigo relaxed his tense limbs as the soft footfalls came to a stop beside him and the sweet scent of flowers surrounded him. It's the princess.

His heart tripped in his chest at the thought and his earlier sense of relief fled. How did she leave her bed without him noticing? More importantly, why she was approaching him in the middle of the night? She didn't expect him to service her already, did she? Ichigo was certain that he'd read her right and she was every bit as innocent as he was. Possibly more so.

He began to doubt himself at the feather light brush of fingers skimming over his mused hair. Holding his breath, he felt an unexpected surge of anticipation race up his spine and he waited to see where her next touch landed.

A shudder racked his frame as the tip of her finger slid along the shell of his ear before pulling away. Ichigo was afraid to make a move or even speak, certain he'd frighten the shy woman. She really was like the little bird Aizen called her, timorous, uncertain, and cautious.

Ichigo snapped back to attention at the feel of something wet dripping on his forearm. He peered through the darkness and searched her face. Silvered tears streamed down her smooth cheeks and dropped from her trembling chin.

Why in heaven's name was she crying?

If she didn't want to touch him, then why did she approach him in the first place? No one was forcing her. Ichigo felt unaccountably disappointed before grimacing when the blood rushed to his hands. The leather bonds around his wrists loosened and fell to the floor as Orihime cut them away.

"Leave through the gardens …there is a door hidden in the wall …then go past the main stables to the outer wall."

Her voice was thin and tremulous as she relayed the directions to help him escape. He was unable to see her expression, or even tell if she was still crying. Ichigo was further confused when she laid a small silver dagger and a rough metal key near his freed hand, and stepped back without a sound.

"You should go quickly. The sentries will change watch soon."

He could hear her swallow reflexively in the stillness of the room before she melted back into the shadows, whispering.

"Forgive me, but I can think of no other way to save your life."

**~o0o~**

A/N: Uh-oh, Orihime's being all sneaky and turning her love slave loose without even taking a tiny taste. Whut?

The shortest chapter I've ever written is coming up next. Ichigo flips Aizen the bird before carrying Hime off to his home in the desert, where he eagerly seduces her and gives her a dozen beautiful redheaded babies. Keep your eyes peeled for the really lame and super short conclusion.

Just kidding. Seriously, I'm only kidding. /gets shot

I hope you're still enjoying the story, thanks for reading. ~Rairakku


	3. Chapter 3

**Slave to Her Passions**

Part 3: Self-sacrifice

Bleach; Ichihime AU

Word count: 8235

Warning: T+; cursing, corporal punishment, minor adult situations

Disclaimer: all characters herein are the property of Kubo Tite.

**~o0o~**

Soft morning light spilled across the floor. It played among the fringe of the thick patterned rug and spread over the marble tiles before drifting down the length of the unraveled leather bonds lying discarded at the end of the bed.

Orihime peered over the edge of her bed and brushed back her messy cloud of hair. She half hoped that when she woke her scowling slave would still be there, tied securely to the foot of her sleeping couch.

But, she knew better. Last night, he grabbed the dagger and key without question and disappeared into the gardens, leaving her standing in the shadows all alone.

She felt a twinge in her heart as she rolled to her back. He was well and truly gone. Orihime stared at the intricate mosaic that spread across the ceiling without actually seeing it as a small smile curled her lips. She succeeded in helping someone, even though doing so came at a heavy price …

Her very life.

Orihime knew last night when she first slipped from her bed she would likely not see another sunset. Aizen brooked no disobedience in this house. His word was absolute law.

It didn't matter. The die was cast and she couldn't undo her actions now; nor would she want to. Her decision was to protect her friends from any further threats. With her death, they would be free of this cursed house.

The sound of Rangiku and Rukia arguing had her looking towards the draped opening between her rooms and the main lounge. What were they doing up at such an early hour? Orihime kicked free of the blankets, ready to face whatever the day had in store for her with a smile on her face.

The two women burst into the quiet sunlit room and their fight trailed off at the sight of the leather cord unraveled on the floor. The orange haired slave nowhere to be seen.

"Huh? Where'd he go?" Rangiku demanded with a confused frown as she came to a skidding stop. Her face brightened and she turned to pluck at the blankets piled on the bed to peer underneath with an excited laugh. "You naughty girl, he's in your bed, isn't he?"

The blankets fell to the floor, revealing the mattress void of the man she eagerly sought. The silence was deafening as two women looked at each other before turning to stare at the princess with dawning horror.

Rukia shook her head in the negative, denying what her eyes saw before she raced for the door, calling for Renji at the top of her lungs. "The slave's escaped. Hurry, up you fool!"

"No, I set him free."

"What?" Rukia swung around to stare at the princess, her breath rushing past her lips from the force of her fear. "You did what?"

"I cut him loose and let him escape last night."

Renji barreled into the room in time to hear the princess' bold confession, and his voice joined the others as they demanded answers from her.

"You don't have to lie, my lady. Tell the truth." Rangiku's face was pale and creased with worry as she clasped Orihime's hand between her own. "The slave overpowered you and forced you to untie him, right?"

"No, I'm sorry that's not what happened at all. I let him escape."

Rangiku stepped away from her young charge before her trembling legs failed her and she sunk to the floor.

Equally terrified for the princess, Rukia paced and spoke aloud, "Byakuya could intervene –but there's no time for a message to be sent." Her wide eyes met Orihime's and they both knew nothing could save her from Aizen's wrath now.

Orihime felt guilty for making them worry, but she didn't regret what she did for a moment. It was done for them –and the nameless man who escaped this nightmare. Her friends couldn't save her now. No amount of anger, frustration, righteous indignation, or even the Kuchiki name would keep Aizen from punishing her. Orihime was well aware of this and turned the slave loose anyway.

She was at peace with her decision and ready to accept the consequences.

Orihime put it from her mind, thinking only of a hot bath and massage, possibly her last, and she quietly left the room. She walked down a narrow hall to her private hammam and brushed aside the drape covering the doorway. The silent steamy room beckoned her forward and she stopped in shock –and awe at the sight before her.

Someone was already bathing. Clear water poured from a carved ewer, streaming over tanned skin and rippling muscles down to …

It was Taurus in all his naked splendor.

"What are you doing up already?"

Orihime's eyes flew up to the ceiling as a fiery blush flooded her cheeks, leaving her feeling lightheaded. She heard her unexpected guest move around and mutter under his breath about wishing to bathe in peace for once. A warm glow flowed through her when she first saw those unmistakable orange strands spiking above furrowed brows …before his other outstanding attributes captured her attention.

When she next looked, after first gathering her courage, there was a narrow length of linen knotted low on his hips. Orihime called herself ten kinds of shameless for continuing to look at him –down there, and forced her gaze elsewhere.

Heavens preserve her. That shivery feeling was back, this time with a vengeance.

Orihime tiptoed near the orange haired man while repeatedly sneaking peeks at his chiseled chest and long hair roughened legs. Quit staring and say something. She pushed her heated imaginings out and allowed fear to creep in.

"W-what are you doing here?" With her heart hammering in her chest, Orihime dared look into his narrowed brown eyes. "Why didn't you leave?"

.

.

.

Silence stretched out between them. Why was he still here? Ichigo couldn't really answer that question himself. He had slipped unseen through the compound and used the key she gave him to open the gate. Freedom was within his reach, but for some reason he had looked back the way he just came, and something that felt suspiciously like regret made itself known.

Ichigo reached up to knead the back of his neck and instead made a grab for the material around his waist as it shifted. He cursed under his breath and retied his towel. The last thing he wanted was to give this pink-cheeked princess another eyeful. He was already embarrassed enough.

He coughed awkwardly into his fist and looked away without answering her. What could he really say to her anyway? It was obvious to him Orihime didn't sleep at all last night. Her hair was a tangled mess where she likely tossed and turned through the long hours and there were dark smudges under her eyes. Ichigo couldn't say he liked the look of anxiety and confusion in her soft brown gaze and was ready to tell her not to worry about him when her black-haired mentor pulled the curtain aside.

Rukia came to a stop just inside the room. The sky blue drape slipped from her fingers and fell silently across the opening as her eyes widened in shock. Staring at what had to be an apparition, her mouth opened and closed without a sound emerging before snapping out of her stupor. "What are you doing here? Orihime said she cut you loose last night."

"Tch, I won't be indebted to any woman for my freedom. I'll gain it myself." Ichigo said with a scowl. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and turned his face away, not wanting to meet either of their surprised gazes.

"Prideful bastard." Rukia said under breath before clipping him in the chin with a tiny fist. Her small body practically trembled with rage as she grabbed his ear and yanked him down to her level.

"Are you stupid, the princess fully intended to sacrifice herself for your freedom and you have the gall to throw that gift back in her face as worthless? You should be grateful to your mistress is so kindhearted, slave. I would kill you where you stand for such disrespect."

It was as he thought. Ichigo ignored the irate woman in front of him and pulled free of her punishing grip. His gaze unerringly found the princess near the marble water basin set into the wall. With the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth, she picked through the snarls in her long hair with a carved ivory comb. Orihime looked so very innocent and untainted by the harshness of life. He felt that seed of guilt from yesterday sprout, spread its tendrils out, and wrap around what felt like his heart. Her silent tears from last night made sense to him now.

She mourned for her very life.

Even though she expected death, she still cut him free and facilitated his escape. She even apologized to him for not doing more. His stomach churned and Ichigo blew out a breath as a feeling of abject disbelief washed over him. Orihime planned to exchange her life for his, after only knowing him one day. What kind of person did that? That wasn't selfless, that was crazy. She was crazy. She had to be. No woman was that brave.

"Renji."

Rukia's loud yell for the guard startled him and interrupted his thinking as he tried to puzzle out this odd princess. Renji rushed into the room within seconds, his hand on the hilt of his sword. What did the idiot expect, an invasion in the women's bath? Ichigo frowned darkly, wishing he had his own sword near at hand. Although, after last night, it closer than before and no longer in Grimmjow's possession. Ichigo had the princess to thank for that, at least.

His hand fell away from his weapon and Renji stood stock still in the doorway. He looked from the supposedly missing slave to Rukia and back again in confusion. "What's he doing here?"

Rukia waved away his question and pointed towards the half-naked man. "Get him dressed and take him to the kitchens.

"Since he's staying, he can perform a slave's duties and wait hand and foot on his mistress. That should surely do his stubborn male soul some good." Her indigo eyes flashed with devious pleasure when he glared at her.

"Umm, where did Rangiku go?" Orihime interrupted, unaware of the rising tension, "I thought she was here, too."

All arguments came to a sudden stop at the princess' words. Rukia's head snapped around as she too looked for the missing woman. Paling, she shared a significance look with Renji, one that Ichigo took note of and silently speculated what it meant exactly.

"Think nothing of it, my lady. I'm sure she's lazing around somewhere. She most likely snuck off to go see Ichimaru." Rukia said and gestured for the men to leave with a sharp wave of her hand.

"Tch, he's probably pumping her for information…" Renji said cryptically as he nudged Ichigo from the room, "among other things."

**~o0o~**

Steam rose from a collection of ewers sitting near the wide bench Orihime lay on. She rested her chin on her folded arms and breathed in the moist scented air. She loved her morning bath. It was one of her favorite parts of the day, along with mealtime. She giggled drowsily as her stomach gave a gurgle of agreement.

Soon, she scolded her rumbling tummy. Bath first, then food …hopefully served by a certain bare-chested orange haired man.

It was really too bad of her to imagine such a thing. But no matter what she told herself, her mind returned to visit the memory from earlier when she first stepped into the hammam. Her slave was beautiful, every single inch of him.

Her naughty train of thought brought a blush to her cheeks and Orihime was grateful when Isane, the tall silver haired bath mistress finished gathering the necessary items and began her daily ablutions.

As was the norm, the bath mistress did not overlook any part of her body. Isane scrubbed and exfoliated her skin until she was pink before she rinsed off in the steaming tub. Orihime returned to the bench after a long soak and lay back as Isane stripped away all her unwanted body hair was with a sweet mixture of lemon and sugar, leaving her skin smooth and clean. Her long hair was dried with a piece of raw silk and another servant stepped forward to massage scented oils into her supple skin until she was relaxed and boneless.

The purposeful movements of the remaining servants faded from her consciousness as Orihime's eyes drifted shut and she floated along in pleasant daydreams. She lost herself in a magical world, one where a handsome prince, riding a gleaming white stallion would rescue her from an evil jinn before taking her to his home, one filled with joy, laughter, and much love.

Her eyes popped open as her dreams of a loving family fractured at the feel of a stiff leather strap trailing up the length of her bare leg. She swallowed against the lump in her throat as a feeling of dread stretched its tendrils out, paralyzing her. It's time. Orihime curled her fingers into her palms with resignation and braced herself for the stinging smack of a riding crop as it struck her bare bottom.

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, but she didn't allow them the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in pain. Orihime concentrated on the images flashing through her mind, a family, someone to love, her new slave, Sora …

Diving into the hazy world of her dreams, she focused on her memories of her loving brother, clinging to it with desperation. It was something even lord Aizen couldn't take from her. Orihime was no longer in the room with her tormentors. She was in a safe place where this once trusted advisor of her brother could not hurt her.

.

.

.

Aizen stepped from the shadows and, waved away the man standing over the princess. Long fingers caressed the welt rising against her soft ivory skin with interest. It was beautiful, red and throbbing, pulsing with pain.

"You tried to turn your slave loose, didn't you?" Aizen said as his fingers lightly brushed up the length of her spine to tangle in long russet curls.

Orihime didn't answer him. It wasn't necessary really. They both knew it wasn't really a question, but a statement of fact.

He bent low to lean over her naked back and brushed her thick hair aside to whisper into her ear. "That's really too bad, my little bird. My gifts should never be thrown away so easily."

The riding crop fell once again, striking her smooth skin with a sharp crack. Her young flesh jiggled from the cruel force and a second angry welt surfaced, but the princess didn't even flinch.

His smug pleasure died quickly at her continued silence. The unfeeling wench. Not letting his growing rage betray him, Aizen was careful to keep an amused half smile curving his lips as he gestured to the slim blonde haired man beside him to continue with the punishment.

.

.

.

Light from a high window played over the black eye patch and turquoise marking on the right side of his face as Tesla returned to his earlier position near the bench and the silent form of the princess. He licked his lips and hesitated for a moment before his lord leveled a cold stare in his direction, silently ordering him to begin.

The blonde haired man felt his heart trip. It was a rare treat to punish a woman. Their skin was delicate, their cries sharper, their agony more intense. This tender princess would be the best yet. His hand reflexively clenched around the braided handle of the riding crop, wishing to draw the moment out.

Breathing deeply, Tesla widened his stance and felt the delicious thrill of anticipation race through him as his arm raised high. His lips stretched into a wicked leer as the crop whistled through the air and struck the perfect unblemished skin with a snap before his arm jerkily rose for another strike, and another, and another.

Remember this well, little princess; this is what happens to those who dare disobey lord Aizen_._

**~o0o~**

Ichigo pulled on the clothing the guard threw at him in a small room off the princess' chamber. He called himself ten kinds of a fool and questioned his sanity again. Why did he not escape while he had the chance? He left last night, only to come back three separate times, moving like a wraith through the shadows as he explored the sprawling house and grounds.

He wasn't stupid, nor as dense as his father -and others- liked to believe. Ichigo just didn't find most things worth his time or effort to talk about. If there was a problem, he fixed it. If someone was in his face, he took them apart. If something happened that he couldn't change, he ignored it and went on with his life. His existence to this point was simple and to the point.

So it didn't make any sense why after only one day, he chose to sacrifice his freedom to stay as Orihime's love slave.

The only answer Ichigo had was there was something about this house that made him uncomfortable. It was as if evil permeated the very walls. He didn't like the idea of leaving the princess alone with only those two bickering women and that spiky haired guard to watch over her.

For the time being, he'd stay and keep a close eye on Orihime …on Aizen. That name teased the edges of his mind. It was familiar for some reason. Ichigo shrugged his shoulders and followed the scarlet haired guard out of the room, putting his thoughts aside for now.

A maze of halls led them from Orihime's chambers to the women's quarters, through a sun-drenched courtyard and into a wing of the house Ichigo didn't explore last night. He made note of the outlying buildings through the arched windows as he gained his bearings. This house was much larger than he first thought, and he made mental notes of the convoluted layout as he followed Renji down a shadowed hall into a large smoky room full of tables and clay ovens.

Renji nodded to a heavily veiled woman working at a far table and jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Ichigo's direction. "This here is the princess' slave." He said and yanked the orange haired man forward. "He will be coming to collect her food and drink from now on."

A knife fell from the cook's nerveless fingers to clatter against the wooden worktop and wide brown eyes stared out, unblinking above the edge of her concealing veil. Ichigo stared back belligerently and wondered what her problem was. Hadn't she ever seen a slave before?

Ichigo slowly uncrossed his arms and felt some of his tension melt away as something in her gaze struck him as familiar. Who was this woman?

The cook broke the nebulous connection and snapped her fingers. She gestured for a serving girl to assist them before turning away with a sharp motion. A young round faced blonde wrestled with a man in the corner as they both sought to do as cook requested.

"Cook was pointing at me, Sentarō."

"You idiot, she meant me." The black haired man said as he pushed the eager girl to the side.

Kiyone pushed back without missing a beat and slipped under his beefy arm. She hurried to the preparation table. "I'll be the one to make the princess' tray, not you. No man should touch the lady's food anyway."

"They're men, too, Kiyone." Sentarō pointed to Renji and Ichigo as they stood silently watching the strange argument before demanding. "What's the difference?"

"They …" Kiyone flushed as all three men watched her with raised brows, curious as to what her answer would be. The young girl grabbed a tray and shoved her companion away with a shout, "they don't count."

Ichigo sighed and let the escalating argument wash over him. He stared at the far wall and wondered –yet again- why he didn't leave this crazy house when he had the chance.

He was seething by the time they returned to the women's quarters sometime later with a heavy tray laden with a surprising array of dishes. Renji walked beside him with a wide grin pulling at his lips, obviously enjoying every moment of his humiliation. Ichigo was ready to throw down the tray and take whatever beating came his way. He was untied now and no longer at a disadvantage.

Ichigo forgot about the smugly grinning guard when the drape to the princess' sleeping chamber pulled back and the woman herself entered. He set the tray down negligently on the edge of the table and frowned when he noticed Orihime was moving slower than normal and the silly bounce was missing from her step. Rukia trailed behind her young charge with a look that was a combination of both fury and worry, with concern winning out as Orihime gingerly kneeled beside the low table.

At Rukia's sharp command, he shook aside the strange niggle of concern and diverted it to the back of his mind. Scowling, he began placing dishes on the table and stole a look at her composed face. Ichigo narrowed his eyes at her silence. Yesterday evening, the sight of food sent Orihime into an outburst of delight. Now, she didn't even acknowledge the feast laid out before her.

Her eyes were dead, emotionless. Her body was rigid and unbending. The cold unfeeling princess he first met was back.

He finished with the menial task and stepped back, waiting with the hopes of being dismissed to find some food of his own. Instead, Rukia smacked him upside the head. Ichigo's hands curled into fists as he glared at the abusive black haired woman.

Rukia pointed to the silver teapot kept hot on a nearby brazier. "Serve your mistress her tea, slave."

He dropped to his knees beside the stone-faced princess and blew out a frustrated breath before pouring the tea with little grace or competence. The strong scent of mint filled the air as he placed the steaming cup beside her untouched plate and he stared at her with unwilling interest. Where was the stammering and blushing princess from before?

"Orihime?"

The princess blinked before looking towards her mentor. A small smile curled her lips as Orihime titled her head in question and Rukia urged her to eat and drink something. Nodding in acquiescence, her hand lifted from where it gripped the edge of the table and she reached for her tea. Her fingers fumbled on the rim and the cup fell to its side. Hot tea rushed across the surface and flowed directly onto Ichigo's lap.

He came to his feet in a rush and pulled the soaked material away from his body. "You clumsy-" He bit back to rest of his curse with difficulty, literally having to bite his tongue to keep his oath behind his lips.

Rukia's eyes flared in irritation. "You filthy spawn of a jackal. Don't speak to your mistress like that."

Orihime grimaced as she gained her feet. "It's alright, Rukia. He's right. I was clumsy." She gave a small bow in his direction and clasped her trembling hands together. "Please, forgive me."

Rukia left off with glaring at bad-tempered bastard and turned to stare at the princess, groaning in frustration. "Don't apologize to him. He's a slave."

Orihime opened her mouth to answer, but closed it after a moment and looked down at the thick carpet. "It doesn't matter to me if he's a slave or not."

"You are much too tenderhearted for your own good, my lady." Rukia said with a sigh. She threw up her hands in defeat and admonished her young charge to eat something before she left the room to find Renji.

The thick door shut with a dull thud and further emphasized the silence surrounding the two of them. Their eyes met for only a moment before glancing away from each other.

Not knowing what else to do, Ichigo grabbed a cloth from the tray and rubbed at the wet stain on the front of his loose pants. He could feel Orihime's eyes repeatedly slide over him as he moved to swipe at the puddle of cooling tea on the table. He stole glances of his own at her still figure before tossing the soaked cloth back on the tray and breaking the silence.

"It was an accident, so quit watching at me with that look in your eyes."

Orihime lowered her eyes back to the floor. "I am sorry," she said, "so very sorry."

Ichigo blinked at her mournful tone and looked at the closed door before stepping around the table to her side. His expression gentled as he towered over her small defenseless form. "This isn't about the tea any more, is it?"

Orihime lifted her gaze at his softly spoken question.

"It's because I didn't leave, right."

.

.

.

Her chest tightened and tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. Orihime furrowed her brows and gazed into her slave's attentive brown eyes. What was this strange effect he had on her? Was she so desperate for any show kindness, any smidgen of gentleness that she would melt at his feet so easily?

"You should have left. You didn't do anything to deserve this. I-I'm-"

"Don't." He said with a dark scowl. "I made my choice. You have nothing to feel guilty over."

How could she not feel guilty? This man was just a pawn in another one of Aizen's sick and twisted games. He would be discarded just as soon as his usefulness ended. Did he not realize this? Why couldn't he have swallowed his pride and escaped?

Orihime wrapped her arms around herself in a protective gesture and struggled against the urge to cry, to pour out her pain and heartbreak of this last year to this man. This was bad. This is why she wanted him gone. He made her feel vulnerable and so very weak.

"Why couldn't you have just-"

"Enough talking, my lady." Rangiku bounced into the room and clapped her hands together, calling for their attention. "It's time for your training to begin. And time for a certain someone to get a massage."

Orihime drug her feet as she followed Rangiku to the hammam where her first lesson was to be held. She stood in the quiet stillness of the steamy room and looked between her straight-faced mentor to her scowling slave and back again.

"Tell him to strip and lie down over there." Rangiku said and waved a hand to the wide bench she had occupied earlier this morning.

She couldn't do this. It was wrong, so very wrong. The only man she remembered touching was her brother. Orihime could still recall the strength in his arms as Sora hugged her and the gentleness in his hand as he stroked her long hair. He had been gone for a year now, but she clearly remembered his order for her not to be alone with or touch any man except him and someday in the future, her husband.

Rukia sent her a sympathetic look from the far side of the room. Renji stood guard in the shadows several feet behind her and Orihime knew better than to turn to her friends for help in this matter. Their hands were tied just as effectively as her own.

"Give him the order." Rangiku said with an impatient tap of her foot. She arched a delicate blonde brow and gestured to the rigid man standing behind her. "He is yours to use as you please. And right now, you are going to use him to gain some familiarity with a man's body."

"B-but, he …I …I can't do that." Orihime clenched her fingers in the loose fabric of her caftan, fighting against the urge to run.

"Yes you can, and you will." Rangiku took her by the shoulders and turned her bodily to face the slave. She hesitated before whispering in Orihime's ear. "Remember, this was ordered by lord Aizen himself."

Orihime really didn't need the reminder. Her body screaming in agony was reminder enough. If that wasn't enough, she had the threat Aizen left with her still echoing in her mind …

The next time she disobeyed, he'd have one of the others whipped in her place while she watched the lash reduce their backs to a mangled pulp.

He would do it too, and take pleasure in the pain it caused her. She was entirely at his mercy.

Hot tears gathered along her lashes, but she refused to let them fall. There was no choice, no negotiating. This was one of those trials she swore she'd overcome for the sake of her friends. Orihime tucked her emotions away and whispered an apology to her departed brother for disobeying.

She stared at a spot just above her slave's shoulder. "P-please …" she pressed her lips together in an attempt to compose herself before trying again. "Please, can you t-take …"

Orihime made the mistake of shifting her eyes to the side to meet those of her slave's. His gaze was dark and brooding as he watched her from under lowered brows and she felt her courage fail her.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this." She cried out and buried her face in her hands.

.

.

.

Rangiku was on her feet in an instant, clapping her hands together as she chided her protégé, "Orihime!"

Ichigo took pity on his mistress and sent the blonde haired woman a filthy look. He called himself a fool once more, and yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

"You'd better keep your eyes covered a little longer." He muttered threateningly in the princess' direction as his pants hit the floor.

He grabbed a folded cloth from the table and flicked it out with a snap before wrapping it around his waist, preserving at least some of his modesty, since there was no way to salvage his pride at this point. Who knew he was such a sucker for tears.

Ichigo stretched out face down on the bench. "Now, let's get this over with quickly." He said and listened with only half an ear as Rangiku walked the princess through the basic motions of a massage.

Ichigo ignored the litany of apologies falling from Orihime's lips with each timid touch and clenched his jaw as she slapped her slippery hands against his back in jerky motions. It nowhere near resembled any massage he'd ever received in the past, but as long as this was only as far as it went, he would endure for the time being.

Obviously, the heavens were conspiring against him today though. Rangiku directed her charge from a heap of cushions set off to the side to be gentler and to use longer, smoother motions. Interfering woman. Did she not know how difficult it was for him to lie here and submissively allow a woman to touch him with so much familiarly? And not just any woman either, this woman in particular already made him feel things he didn't want to. Her small hands moving over his body was making him feel twitchy and restless.

Minutes passed and his body gradually relaxed and grew heavy under Orihime's untutored hands. Occasionally, Rangiku would call out an order and the rhythm of the princess' strokes would change, going from lightly exploring to deep kneading. Her slender fingers pushed firmly along the length of his spine and Ichigo couldn't stop a small moan from slipping through his parted lips.

His mind drifted along hazily and the surroundings slowly faded from his awareness, until only the two of them remained. Warm almond oil dribbled over his shoulders and down his back. The gentle sensation was followed by the feel of her healing hands moving over his lower back as she spread the pooling oil over his skin in a circular motion.

Ichigo licked his dry lips and felt his breath catch in his throat as her fingers brushed against the towel before slipping under the edge to stroke the very base of his spine. He almost jerked off the bench as fire raced just under his skin and coiled low in his gut.

His hands curled into tight fists under his chin as he fought against these first stirrings of arousal. Ichigo couldn't believe this was happening against his will. Was he not still the master of his own body? Her hands swept up to massage the back of his neck and tangle in his hair and Ichigo swallowed a gravelly groan as he ground against the hard bench.

How did these innocent touches, breathless sighs, and trembling fingers gliding over his oiled skin arouse him so easily? He tried to imagine exactly what this innocent princess looked like right at this moment as her slender fingers swirled over his shoulder blades.

_Don't look …_

He tucked his lips against his teeth, holding back another moan as her hands stroked along his sides. Was she enjoying touching him as much as he was enjoying her ministrations?

_Don't look …_

Were her cheeks flushed and her lips parted with her ragged breathing?

_Don't look …_

To hell with it. No force on earth could have stopped him at that moment from turning his head to catch a glimpse of her expression. He just had to know.

Her fingers froze against his skin as his head turned and he met her gaze through a tangle of sweaty orange bangs. The blush staining her cheeks darkened, leaving him curious as to what thoughts were going on behind those expressive brown eyes of hers.

Orihime jerked her hands from his body as if burned and stumbled backwards. She gasped, a soft eminently feminine sound, as her heel caught on the edge of a tile. Her arms flailed as the ground rushed up to meet her. Ichigo pushed himself up from the bench, knowing that he couldn't prevent her fall, but he reached for her anyway.

With his hand stretched out to the wide-eyed princess, her oil slick fingers slipped easily through his and he could only watch helplessly as she landed heavily on her bottom. A moan, deep visceral and agonized, rushed past her lips and her eyes rolled back in her head. His heart hammered in his throat as her body slumped to the side and was quiet.

Then, chaos erupted.

**~o0o~**

Gin brushed the sheer drape aside and watched a small contingent of riders leave through the front gates. His narrowed eyes followed the rider on a handsome bay stallion out in front. She was impetuous and eager, as always. He would rather her stay within the protective formation, but adhering to rules and restrictions just wasn't in her nature.

Something that one day might bring about her undoing.

He let the curtain drop and stepped away from the window into the cool shade of the shadowy room."The princess isn't joining them this time?"

Aizen looked away from Zommari, his Assyrian servant preparing strong mint tea on a nearby brazier and smoothed his dark brown hair back with a practice movement, allowing a thick strand to fall casually over his forehead. "My little bird needs a chance to rest and reflect on her disobedience."

"Hmm, yes, I did hear Tesla was in fine form." Said Gin dryly as he accepted a cup of fragrant tea after Zommari served Aizen with reverent adoration. His slanted gaze shifted to the main doorway as the tea master gathered his equipment and left through a side entrance before speaking again. "Where is the little blonde deviant anyway? He's normally so close at hand."

"Off abusing some stable boy probably." Aizen said in an offhanded manner before taking another sip if his tea. "With Nnoitra as his master, what more would you expect?"

Gin shivered with revulsion and put the sadistic one-eyed man and his eager acolyte from his mind. Instead, he inhaled the steam rising from the surface of his cup before his lips pulled into a mocking smile as he purposely needled Aizen. "Was it wise to send the women to the market? It is the perfect opportunity for Rukia to run off with Renji."

Aizen merely smiled and lounged back amongst the cushions, gesturing for his companion to join him. "It was brought to my attention that a new shop opened in the souk early this morning. I merely thought Rangiku and Rukia might find something to pique their interest."

"How providential. It's a rare thing for a shopkeeper to travel to out so far." Gin's amusement with the developing situation was evident as he placed his now empty cup on the tray and crawled forward to settle amid the pillows. "I'll be sure to ask Ran about her visit when she returns."

"Yes, do that." Aizen said in a distracted tone as his long fingers sifted through Gin's silky silver hair. A calculating smile curled the corner of his mouth and he murmured with pleasure. "This game continues to grow ever more interesting."

**~o0o~**

The dusty group from Inoue house stopped at the edge of the village to leave their horses in the care of a slender man with soulful blue eyes. Izuru Kira's pale hands darted from his loose sleeves and he fumbled with the reins tossed his way as Rangiku slid deftly from the saddle. The others took their time exchanging news and pleasantries with the quiet stable master, much to the irritation of the impatient blonde-haired woman as they took an extra minute or two to straighten their clothing.

Renji held out a hand to help Rukia dismount and kept his eyes on those around him as he asked the question that was bugging him. "Tell me again, why did Aizen send us to the market and leave the princess with only an unknown slave to care for her?"

"Come on, let's go."

Rukia ignored Rangiku's call to hurry by using the guise of fixing her veil to stall and explained what she believed to be Aizen's plan. "He will use any excuse to force them spend time alone without distraction or interference from us."

"They were alone last night, and look what happened then." Renji said dryly as he trailed after her.

"Yes, well Orihime knows better than to try that again any time soon."

Renji hurried his step until he was beside her. "She won't be punished, will she –or did Aizen already threaten her?"

She knew she couldn't very well tell him the truth. If Renji found out Aizen had Orihime whipped as punishment, his deeply ingrained sense of honor would send him racing off to face the lord of the house …and then, he would die.

"No, nothing like that." She said quietly, her eyes shifting to the side as a shiver raced through her slender figure. "The princess just understands that her stubborn slave won't leave, even if she does turn him loose."

"You said he didn't want to be beholden to a woman, but I'm beginning to think he has a soft spot for the princess."

"That much was obvious when Orihime passed out." Rukia said with a hint of wonder. "Did you see his face? His eyes?"

The slave's concern for the princess was undeniable. It was evident in the way his hands trembled as he reached for her, the gentleness he showed when picking her up, and his reluctance in turning her over to their care.

"It was the first time I've not seen him scowl."

"I wonder who he really is."

Rukia looked away from the caravan of camels drinking at the village well under the supervision of their herder. She glanced up at Renji to see him staring off in the distance, deep in thought. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think he's a servant or even a captured soldier." He said slowly as if assembling his thoughts. At her curiously raised brow, Renji answered her unasked question and tried to explain himself better. "For one, he's much too arrogant, and when he was brought in, what remained of his clothing was of high quality. It's obvious he's used to giving orders, not taking them."

"Hmm, do you think he's some sheik or bey's son?"

"It's possible."

"If he is, that would at least make it somewhat acceptable if something does happen between him and the princess."

"And something might happen a whole lot sooner if you wouldn't hit him so hard." Rangiku pointed out sourly as she suddenly reappeared from the maze of stalls.

Rukia frowned behind her thick veil, refusing to feel guilty for kneeing the princess' slave earlier. "He tried to check Orihime for injuries. You must surely have maggots for brains if you believe I would let him examine her unconscious body."

"He's going to see her naked, sooner or later, and there's nothing you can do to stop it …not without consequence." Rangiku said the last in a whisper, cutting her eyes to where Renji stood.

Their guard's confused gaze traveled from one woman to the other, certain he was missing an important piece of the conversation as Rukia's indigo eyes widened at the older woman's taunt. Renji watched in growing concern as the normally unshakable woman wrapped her arms around herself in a protective gesture before snapping back.

"Don't …I don't wish to hear it."

Standing still amid the market's stalls, Rukia did not see the selection of pungent spices, fabrics, and beaten jewelry set out for sale. Her thoughts were on the man beside her, her childhood friend now turned protector, and she never felt so helpless in her life. There had to be a way to save both her innocent friend and this man she held in great affection. There just had to be.

"Come on," Renji gestured for her to precede him. "Let's look for this new shop lord Aizen mentioned."

She stole a quick glance at her guard from the corner of her eye, hearing the unmistakable concern in his tone. Rukia straightened her thin shoulders and blinked away shameful tears. She could always depend on him to be there for her.

Sure of herself once again, Rukia set off down the dusty street, making and discarding plans to help those she loved escape Aizen's evil intentions.

Their progress was slow through the open courtyards and winding alleys as they threaded through the crowd. An array of herbal medicine, clothing, vegetable, leather slippers and spice stalls vied for the many shoppers' attention. Turbaned men sat in a group on the edge of the main square playing drums, flutes, and tambourines for the entertainment of the market and for themselves as they laughed and smiled while they preformed.

With something new to see no matter where they turned, the air of the market was alive with the sound of music, bartering, animals braying, and the scent of spicy food cooking over an open brazier with the intention of making mouths water. The clever food vendor succeeded in drawing the group from the fortress forward as they stopped to fill their bellies from bowls of couscous with fragrant lemon and thinly sliced almond chicken.

Well provisioned, they continued their search as the sun beat down mercilessly from a clear blue sky. After repeatedly pulling Rangiku away from various stalls and counters, they finally found the new merchant tucked away in a quiet back corner. The bookseller resided in a modest building with a striped canopy stretched across the front that shaded several small tables covered with his wares.

Grateful to be out of the sun, Rukia glanced through the many offerings, hoping to find a gift to raise the princess' spirits and make her smile. She shook her head as the bookseller, a young man with a scarred face and a jaunty red fez perched on top of his dark head held out a book the princess already owned. She accepted a leather-bound tome he offered as a substitute and idly flipped through it. She knew immediately Orihime would love the fantastical stories and colorful illuminations it contained.

Rangiku pushed the edge of the book down and leaned her head near. "Don't go filling her head with any more fairy tales. The princess needs to get out of the clouds and face reality."

"Orihime's daydreaming doesn't hurt a thing. It's a special part of who she is."

"I love that about her, too." Rangiku said with obvious reluctance and sighed. "But, she had to understand that there are no happy endings before her tender heart brings her even more pain."

"But why can't there be a happy ending for her –for all of us?" Rukia said to herself as she traced a slender finger over the book's tooled leather cover.

Rangiku glanced to the side to see Renji standing off to the side and lowered her voice even more. "What lord Aizen did this morning is minor in comparison to what he is truly capable of …just ask those two serving women, Menoly and Loly." She blew out a shaky breath and slapped the silly book from Rukia's hand. "Oh, wait –sorry, you can't do that, they both disobeyed and now they're dead."

"Forgive me for eavesdropping, but did I just hear that you were short a few serving women at the fortress?"

Three sets of eyes turned to look at the man standing behind them in varying degrees of surprise. How did he get behind them so quickly? Wasn't he just on the other side of the table?

"I am Shūhei Rushd Hisagi, at your service." The bookseller spread his arms out wide and dipped his head in greeting. "I have someone who may meet your needs."

Rukia shook her head, firmly refusing his offer. "We are not in the market for another slave. The one we recently acquired is trouble enough."

.

.

.

Hisagi fought back an automatic grin. If she spoke of his bad-tempered cousin, then calling Ichigo trouble was putting it lightly. "No, you misunderstand. I speak of a cousin, not a slave. Her marriage prospects are slim and she insists on finding employment."

"Is she old then?" Rukia asked politely as her eyes drifted over the unusual tattoos gracing the bookseller's cheek.

He held up the book she was looking at earlier, resorting to sneaky salesman tactic Urahara taught him. Hisagi arched a brow in question and only after the woman gestured that she did indeed wish to purchase it did he reply, "No, just the opposite."

"Then, why no marriage prospects?" Rukia said with an irritated grumble, realizing he had just easily managed her.

He wrapped her purchase in protective fabric and gave a sigh as if exasperated before answering. "It's because she has a tendency to chase perspective suitors off, with the sharp point of a sword."

"Oh," Rukia breathed out in surprise as Rangiku burst into laughter. "May I meet her?" she asked, clearly interested in spite of herself.

Hisagi barely heard the shorter woman's request to meet his cousin while he stared in awe at the second woman. Her laugh was rich, husky, and full of life, and her eyes danced with happy amusement. Focus, he repeated in his mind and shook off the enchantment this blue-eyed woman unknowingly cast over him. Now was not the time for distractions. His mission came first.

He nodded his head in agreement, both to himself and to the woman's request, and turned to an open doorway. He called for his unpredictable cousin and a pleased grin lit up his face. This could truly work out better than anything else they could have planned.

Praise be. Heaven was shining down on him today.

Schooling his expression, Hisagi conveyed the seriousness of the situation to his cousin with his eyes as she bounded from one of the back rooms with an excitable squeal.

Quick on the uptake, she came to a stop beside Hisagi as he whispered, sotto voce, that their guests were from Inoue house. A shaft of sunlight illuminated her green tinged hair as she smiled with childlike innocence at the trio and dipped her head in false modesty.

Hisagi saw the determination burning in his cousin's eyes and knew she was well aware of the dangers. Nothing would stop her from finding her brother, even if it meant working as a serving woman in the cursed home of their enemy. However, if they could convince the ladies of the house to hire her, she would have easy access to the many dark secrets concealed within the Inoue fortress and Ichigo himself.

With that in mind, Hisagi swept a hand towards the woman beside him and prayed he wasn't offering up his adoptive cousin as a sacrificial lamb.

"May I present for your consideration, my cousin, Nelliel."

**~o0o~**

A/N: I have to give a huge thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. The response to this story has floored me. Seriously! I hate to say that I was losing my Ichihime drive, but all of your amazing reviews truly inspired me to keep writing. So thank you, thank you, thank you! You're all such amazing, wonderful, stupendous people. Thanks!

I hope you're still enjoying this story after this chapter. Heh-heh, there were things I was iffy over including, but I'm going to stick with my original outline and keep writing it the way I planned. Hopefully you all stick around for the ride. XD

Thank again for reading~ Rairakku


	4. Chapter 4

**Slave to Her Passions**

Part 4; A New Resolve

Bleach; Ichihime AU

Word Count: 5225

Warning: T+, cursing

Disclaimer: all characters herein belong to Kubo Tite

**~o0o~**

Afternoon shadows marched unnoticed across the tile floor. The only sounds were the burbling of the courtyard fountain and the faint voices of other women living further inside the harem. It was quiet and peaceful, on the surface at least. Ichigo leaned against the cool wall and stared at the unmoving body in the bed before him. Orihime slept heavily now after waking earlier in obvious pain.

When she passed out earlier, he reacted in a heartbeat, scooping her limp body from the floor and then carrying her straight to bed. With the intention of searching out her injury, he ignored his shaking fingers and pounding heart as he unlaced the girdle at her waist and carefully worked the lightweight caftan up her body.

Just as he slipped her tunic over her head, she came to. She blinked drowsily up at him before her cheeks flushed with hot color at either his nearness or the fact he was stripping her. Ichigo didn't know, or care, and dove for the knotted strings of her silken trousers. She was hurt and likely bruised after that fall, but Orihime still tried to shift away from his hands.

Ichigo tensed when her eyes suddenly went wide and she cried out like a wounded animal. His eyes dropped to see her slender fingers clench and twist in the blankets and he reached for her only to have Rukia's knee sink in-between his legs. So focused on the princess' distress, he was unaware of Rukia and Renji returning with the harem's physician until he hit the floor in agony.

Renji dragged him outside to wait. Ichigo hobbled around Orihime's walled garden and cursed the black haired termagant for laying him low, again. However, he couldn't hold onto his anger for long, his thoughts kept returning to the injured woman inside. He knew he shouldn't care. Still, something about this princess called to him. He felt driven to protect her –and that in itself was dangerous.

That didn't stop him from wondering though. Her behavior wasn't normal for something as simple as a fall. Was there a prior illness or injury that he knew nothing of?

He never got the answer to his questions though. When Renji finally escorted him back into her shuttered room, Orihime was sleeping soundly once more. And not long after, Rangiku rushed Rukia and her guard from not only the room, but the fortress as well, for an afternoon of shopping in the local market. They left him where he was now, tied to a bedpost, puzzled by the strange goings-on in this house, and waiting for his mistress to wake again and give him some answers.

Ichigo snapped out of his daze at the sound of footsteps. He turned his head to glance at the shuttered main door and realized the sound wasn't coming from that direction. A door hidden in the recessed wall mural to his left opened and Aizen stepped through.

He jumped to his feet in surprise and grew tense, watchful, as three other men, soldiers by the look of them, entered behind the lord. Aizen strode past him without even a glance, only snapping his fingers and gesturing in his direction as he drew closer to the princess.

With their gazes carefully averted from the bed and Orihime's sleeping form, the smaller blonde man in front directed the other two hulking men towards him. His eyes strayed to the bed for only a moment before Ichigo thought better of it. With his hands tied, taking on all four might be too much –even for him.

At Aizen's amused chuckle, he looked to see the lord of the house staring at Orihime's drugged form with a look in his eyes Ichigo didn't care for at all. It was hard and possessive, greedy.

"What are you doing here?" Ichigo demanded, forgetting about the others until they yanked him backwards in an iron grip.

Aizen didn't answer, or even acknowledge him. He merely picked up a long silky strand of Orihime's hair and rubbed it between his fingers_. _Don't touch her, you filthy son of a pig. Ichigo wanted to shout as he narrowed gaze at the lord of the house and flexed against the burly arms holding him.

Aizen's lips curved up in a mocking smile as he glanced from the struggling orange haired man to his accompanying soldier. "His services are not needed here, Tesla."

"What do you-" Ichigo's head snapped to the side as a fist slammed into his jaw.

Tesla wiped his knuckles against his already blood-stained tunic and hissed for him not to directly speak to the master. He cut Ichigo's tethers, nicking him in the process –most likely on purpose before looking to Aizen for further instructions, "My lord?"

Aizen waved his hand negligibly toward the door. "Take him to the stables."

The stables? Ichigo's head snapped up in surprise. He was the princess' slave. Or did Aizen change his mind about this ridiculous arrangement already.

Even though he resisted with all his might, the two men holding him still dragged him from the room with ease. Ichigo fought against them to the point where his shoulders were in real danger of being dislocated. However, it was just before the doors closed that his shouts grew louder, frantic and his struggles increased. It did no good though.

And the sight Ichigo carried with him was Aizen kneeling on the edge of the bed and leaning over Orihime's defenseless form.

**~o0o~**

After traveling through a maze –of what seemed like 300 halls, through rooms' uncounted, sun-warmed terraces, and color drenched gardens, Nel returned to where she began; the princess' lavish apartments. She was no closer to finding her brother than when she started.

Could her information be wrong –was Ichigo not a slave in the harem?

No, the talkative blonde haired woman in the harem's kitchen, Kiyone, was quick to warn her of the scandalous man living in the women's quarters as the princess' personal slave. He was described only as an orange haired man with a dark scowl and thunderous expression. It sounded just like Ichigo, Nel thought with a grin.

It was a stroke of luck she was hired to work within the Inoue house's walls and she intended to fully take advantage of her good fortune. She skirted a sunny courtyard lined with stone paths and stately trees, Nel made note of the large bubbling fountain near the arch to the princess' sleeping quarters, knowing its placement was as much for aesthetics as it was to keep eavesdroppers from listening in on private conversation.

She made note of a banded wooden door set unobtrusively into the wall, and Nel knew she would check where it led after the sun set. For now, she ducked through an arch at the rear of the princess' apartments with the intent of searching as much as possible before someone called on her to perform some duty.

Stepping through the gap in the carved wooded screen, she entered a large domed room tiled in soothing shades of blue and white. She breathed deeply of the incense-scented air and curiously looked around the luxurious room. Nel took in the comfortable piles of jewel-toned pillows scattered here and there, the marble benches and low tables dotting the airy room, and the various bottles of scented oils and pots of soap filling the many niches in the wall.

"Hello?"

Thinking she was alone, Nel spun around in surprise, instantly alert. She noticed a beautiful woman with hair, the color of sunset, kneeling in the water. She stiffened. It could be no one else but Princess Orihime of the Inoue. The person Nel wished to avoid the most.

"You're new, aren't you?"

She eyed the young woman askance and made her obedience, gritting her teeth all the while. "I am Nelliel, at your service."

Orihime shuffled through the water on her knees to the edge of the pool and leaned her arms on the white marble tiles, smiling in welcome. "I was beginning to wonder where everyone was."

Her hazel eyes narrowed and swept over the cavernous room. It was unusually for there not to be several attendants present in the hammam, especially in the princess' private bath. "You're here alone?" Nel widened her stance, feeling the deadly weight of her jimbiya pressing against her back. This was the perfect opportunity to get information, and if she had to use force, all the better. No one threatened those dear to her heart without reprisal.

The princess sighed sleepily and crossed her arms on the tiled ledge before resting her chin on her wrists. "Uh huh –but the others should be here soon."

Nel nodded slowly in understanding and relaxed. Her brother would come to her if she were patient and bided her time. "Is there any way I can serve you, my lady?"

"A drink, perhaps." She propped an elbows on the edge of the pool and grinned crookedly while Nel filled a cup with cool water. "Hanataro is sweet –but his medicines are not. I feel as if I've swallowed half the desert's sands."

She quirked a brow at the odd comment, not knowing what or who this Hanataro was, and set the cup on the floor within easy reach. and glanced around for something to occupy her time while waiting. The princess' clothes were folded on a sun-warmed ledge. Nel listened for any sign of her brother as she plucked out the jasmine and orange blossoms a servant scattered between the layers the night before. She then misted the garments with a blend of sandalwood, bergamot, and rose before laying them out for the princess to dress for the day.

Growing impatient, she refilled the princess' cup before idly organizing the shelf of scents and oils –or tried to. At every little noise, she'd watch Orihime crane her neck in that direction, looking expectantly, only to settle back in the water, looking wholly unconcerned when it proved to be nothing –until the next noise sounded.

Nel watched this play out several times and finally lost her patience. "Is there something the matter?"

Orihime snapped her wandering gaze back to Nel, her expression clearly surprised. "Um –no, not really –it's just that …" she bit her lip and shook her head, "Never mind. It's not important." She said with a smile and climbed stiff limbed from the water.

A small stack of toweling stood on a low bench and Nel snatched a cloth for the princess to use to dry off. She was beginning to wonder if she should interrogate Orihime in the time they were still alone or not. But the question became moot after taking a single step in the princess' direction. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the young woman's backside.

Someone beat her –recently.

Orihime noticed her stare and pulled the toweling from her lax hands. She wrapped it around her damp body with brittle laugh. "I'm terribly clumsy."

Nel arched at brow as Orihime began to babble about various accidents from the past. The princess was unsuccessful at diverting her attention. No amount of clumsiness left stripes cut perfectly into a person's skin. She narrowed her eyes and really looked at this supposed malicious woman who enslaved her brother. This was Princess Orihime of the Inoue?

The perfumed clothing on the bench gave her the excuse to turn away and she wondering if there was some mistake. Where was the greedy woman who was in league with this lord Aizen? Surely, it wasn't this awkward blushing girl.

Orihime wasn't anything like Nel imagined. She expected an immoral little princess, bored with her normal playthings, demanding a new pet to relieve the tedium in her bedchamber. That obviously wasn't the case though. Then why ruin an innocent unmarried woman by giving her a love slave –and more importantly, why Ichigo?

The petite woman from yesterday removed the princes' clothes from her hands and she jumped in surprise. Nel had been so absorbed in her thoughts; she'd been able to walk right up to her without notice.

Rukia whipped the princess' towel away and began listing Nel's chores for the day. She bowed in understanding when told to bring Orihime's meal to the main lounge first and backed from the room. Her steps faltered when the princess stiffened and glanced her way before looking to her mentor with large pain-filled eyes. It was the first honest emotion Nel has seen her exhibit after a morning full of fake smiles and forced laughter.

"I-I thought that was my slave's job?"

Nel perked up at Orihime's mention of her brother and she lingered in the doorway, wanting to hear the answer as well.

Rukia clenched the princess' delicate caftan in her hands. "Your slave has other matters to attend to at the moment." She said in a casual tone, even as her gaze drifted off to the side.

The thick blue drape dropped back into place behind her and Nel's expression hardened as she walked through the quiet halls to kitchens. Ichigo was here somewhere and that was all that concerned her. She couldn't afford to spare any pity for the princess and her problems. Ichigo came first.

She couldn't wait to reunite with her brother. Then the first chance that came their way, they would disappear from this cursed place before Kurosaki House unleashed retribution on its inhabitants.

**~o0o~**

The two soldiers stared down at the broken body sprawled atop the steaming pile of refuse behind the stable with disgust. The larger of the two turned his head to the side and spit on the dusty ground while his companion prodded the body, searching for any signs of life.

Someone beat the poor unfortunate beyond recognition. With bound hands stretched high over his head, his bruised features were a mystery amid the disfiguring swelling and thick blood, and dirt matted his hair so thickly, it made the original color unrecognizable.

They shared a knowing look and the older man jerked a gauntlet-covered thumb in the direction of the stable before leaning against the weathered storehouse wall, grateful for the bit of shade. The other soldier grumbled under his breath and ducked into the shadowy confines of the stable. He called for one of the grubby attendants to remove the body before it started to bloat. Receiving no response, the man shuffled down the wide stone aisle, looking in each stall as he passed.

Finally coming to the end of the row, the soldier frowned at a bare-chested slave mucking out an ankle deep stall with an economy of motion. He cleared his throat and waited, but the dirt and sweat streaked man continued to work steadily as if no one was there.

Not one for being ignored, he shoved the half-full barrow in front of the stall to its side, spilling its malodorous contents over the floor. "Have dung in your ears? I said to haul off that body."

The slave wiped the trailing sweat from his brow and leaned against his pitchfork. "I heard you the first time." His dark eyes flicked from the ruin of his hard work to the puffed-up man-at-arms and glanced away dismissively. "I'll get to it when I'm finished here."

Swelling up with righteous indignation, the soldier lunged forward. "You'll get to it now, you lazy son of a jackal." He grabbed the belligerent slave by his sweat-dampened hair and dragged him through the stable into the sun.

The grizzled soldier relaxing outside straightened from his shady spot at the sound of raised voices. His companion lumbered out of the stable under the weight of a foul-mouthed slave wielding a carved wooden pitchfork. He pushed off the storehouse wall with the pleasurable intent of helping his partner tame this disobedient vermin.

He'd not seen this one before. He must be new, and feisty -if his hair color was any indication. The old soldier gave a laugh and cracked his knuckles in preparation of hopefully a good brawl.

**~o0o~**

"Hisagi has sent a dispatch, my lord."

Isshin, sheik of the Kurosaki's, turned his head to the door and rose from his chair as Yoruichi strode through the draped opening. Untying the black yashmak that covered her face, she grinned in anticipation of good news and handed him the rolled parchment before taking a seat.

He quirked a brow and broke the seal. His messenger must have ridden through the night to get here so quickly. By his accounts, Hisagi successfully set up shop as a bookseller in the local souk without drawing any undo notice. Isshin nodded head in satisfaction. He had expected as much from the young man.

However, it was the next entry that surprised him. Nelliel found employment as a servant in Inoue house. That was wonderful –yet dangerous news. Nevertheless, Isshin had faith in his adopted daughter. She was a warrior at heart and quite capable of handling any situation that might crop up.

Isshin scanned Hisagi's account that Nelliel passed over the wall during the night for any news of his son's condition. He skimmed over her report of the estimated number in the garrison and placement of sentries, and instead focused on the one line at the bottom and paled.

It can't be true. He began to tremble and the parchment fell from his fingers to the floor. Lies. Isshin whispered. It had to be lies. Anyone but Ichigo, he begged as he stepped away from the deceptively innocent looking piece of paper before clenching his fingers into his thick black hair.

"My only son is dead."

From his position on the floor, Urahara jerked upright at Isshin's cry and snatched up the scroll with a shaking hand. His shadowed eyes flew across the meticulous script, searching. He blinked down at the parchment before looking to his now wailing friend.

"Wait …" Urahara gestured to the report in his hand, "Why do you say Ichigo's dead?"

Isshin stopped mid-cry and turned to see his longtime friend staring up at him with furrowed brows. Why? He threw his hands in the air in disbelief; the answer should be obvious to anyone who knew his son and his temperament. "This is Ichigo, my dense and quite possible eternally flaccid son, we're talking about." he said with tears streaming down his cheeks. "If he's not dead yet, he soon will be."

"Why, what's happened?"

Urahara glanced over his shoulder at his dark-skinned companion and smirked. "Our dear sweet Ichigo's been made a love slave to a princess!" The sound of Yoruichi's chair crashing to the ground drowned out his resultant snort of glee.

She rolled to her feet as lithely as a cat and cleared her throat before righting her chair as if nothing had happened. "Ichigo is lady Orihime's slave?" Yoruichi said with incredulity coloring her tone and muttered under breath about that being a case of the blind leading the blind.

"You know her, don't you?"

Yoruichi fiddled with silver dagger in her hand, brushing her finger back and forth over the jewel in the hilt before answering. "Yes, I was acquainted with her and her brother before –difficulties came between our houses."

Isshin ignored her veiled meaning and blew out a tight breath. "I too have heard of her –but I wonder –do rumors match reality?" His tone held out little hope as he wearily rubbed a hand over his face.

After a moment, he resumed his seat and lifted tired eyes. "Tell me what you know."

She nodded and took a minute to compose her thoughts before starting with her earliest memory of the princess. Pacing the room, Yoruichi talked in halting manner of Orihime's birth –not purposely withholding information, but due to her advent into the world being a mystery. She then broached the touchy subject of the princess' brother. How he removed his infant sister from the Sultan's palace and raised her far from court at their kindly and well-respected grandfather's fortress.

Listening intently as the tale unfolded, Isshin's mind worked furiously as he placed Yoruichi's information against what he already knew. A clearer picture of the Inoue family emerged, and his already considerable doubts over Sora's involvement with his wife grew.

He sighed inwardly and hoped that Ichigo never learned who the princess' brother was -at least not until after he had the chance to talk with him. Otherwise, his vow to avenge his mother might make him do something he would later regret. Isshin pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and wished he had been more honest with his son. If only…

Isshin blinked and looked at Yoruichi in surprise. Did she just say something about big breasts? His attention easily captured by the subject matter at hand, he forgot his earlier worries as his friend reeled off the princess' other physical attributes, her beauty, her uniquely colored hair, and her phenomenal body.

By the time she listed Orihime's unique personal characteristics, her gentleness, her compassion, and her unwavering loyalty, a smile played at the corners of the sheik of the Kurosaki's mouth.

He slapped his opened palms against the wooden arms of his chair. This woman could be the match he'd been looking for his headstrong son. Isshin was curious to meet her.

"Ichigo may yet come out of this alive." He said and shared a meaningful look with both his advisors, hope glowing in the depths of his dark eyes for reasons other than what was expected. "Even better, this lady Orihime might drain him of the bad humors plaguing his body of late."

**~o0o~**

The gentle scrape of a page turning was the only sound to be heard in her room. Orihime stared blankly at the new book Rukia bought her and sighed. She was bored –and lonely.

In two days, no one visited. She hadn't seen Rukia since yesterday morning's brief visit in the hammam, and Rangiku hadn't come by at all. This must surely be another part of her punishment. Orihime was in a harem full of women and she was allowed to see or speak to no one.

The main door to her apartments remained shuttered. It was an unmistakable sign she was not to be disturbed, with the exception of Hanataro, the harem physician's twice-daily visits to administer painkillers and the new servant, Nelliel, bringing her meals.

She gave another sigh and idly flicked the page edges back and forth. Orihime couldn't gather any news on her friends or her slave from either of them, one being too shy and the other unsociable.

While it wasn't uncommon for her to be alone, her solitude now grated on her nerves as never before. Her slave could be locked away in some dark airless cell, hurt or possibly already dead, and she would never know.

When she awoke yesterday morning to see his bonds cut, her stomach clenched then soared, thinking he finally made good on his escape. Until, she noticed the Damascus rose resting on her pillow. Orihime didn't want to touch the pale red petals or breathe in the cloying fragrance. She was well aware of its significance. Lord Aizen had been in her room. Her slave didn't escape; he was taken –and Orihime was sick with worry ever since.

Her first instinct was to search for him, but it was an impossible task. The fortress was huge and the areas where a prisoner would be held were prohibited to her as a woman. Orihime played around with the idea of disguising herself as a servant, even going so far as to borrow a dark colored djellabah and hiding it in her room. Except, Hanataro's medicines left her heavy eyed and drowsy. The last two days she was asleep more than awake –almost purposely, it seemed.

Her fingers stilled on the page when she heard a rustle of cloth and the creak of wood. She turned her head to see Aizen lounging in the chair set near the head of her bed.

"Bored, little bird?"

She jerked upright and rolled to her side, biting back an automatic grimace of pain. Aizen's mouth quirked up at the corner and he negligently lifted a hand, staying her. "There's no need to get up. I just thought you might like some company."

Orihime wondered what he was doing in her rooms. Did he come to taunt her with news about her slave? Her stomach churned with sudden apprehension. She closed her book, not bothering to mark her page -it wasn't as if she was really reading it anyway- and steeled herself for the worst as her eyes lifted to meet Aizen's .

"Don't look at me so." He said chidingly. "While it is regrettable that I was forced to punish you, I am not the enemy here; everything I do is with your best interest in mind. Your brother asked in the event something happened to him that I would protect you and see to your future."

Aizen watched her from under lowered brows, a hint of a smile playing about his lips. He folded his hands in his lap, the very picture of calm and restraint and continued.

"That being said, I understand that you have not yet resigned yourself to learning the sensual arts, even though your future husband will expect it; demand it. There are girls half your age who know more than you do. That is Sora's fault for spoiling you. He did you no favors by not preparing you."

Orihime sensed him watching her, waiting in silence for her to respond. However, she didn't want to talk about Sora, not with him, and not about her future. There was only one thing she wanted to talk to this man about. "What happened to my slave?"

Aizen waved away her query, a small satisfied smile pulling at his lips as if he were expecting that very question. "He's not important right now; we're discussing you fighting my efforts at every turn."

Did that mean he was still alive? If he were dead, Aizen would have told her plainly –and took pleasure in delivering the news. "Where-"

He silenced her with a look. "I have kindly given you time to recuperate, but this training is important and will go forward as planned. It will guarantee you a good match –which is exactly what your brother was working towards before he died."

She closed her eyes and sighed. Orihime knew this already. Girls were trained from birth onward to be sweet tempered, well mannered, and to put a man's care and comfort before their own to make themselves worthy in the eyes of a prospective suitor. Hinamori taught her all those things with the exception of any love play and she never thought of that as a detriment –figuring her future husband would teach her all she needed to know.

At least she thought that until the other day. When she ran her hands over her slave's tense back, she felt clumsy and ignorant, a failure, unable to do something most women did with ease. At that moment, Orihime wished she were more learned and able to give him pleasure until his scowl melted away and he smiled. With that picture in mind …

"I'm willing to strike a bargain." Her words rushed out before she could snatch them back.

She suddenly had Aizen's full attention. He narrowed his eyes and she bit the soft underside of her lip, her mind screaming in warning. Was she wrong to make this demand? Most men would not put up with her continued defiance. They would have been quick to remind her of her place, by force if necessary.

"You have very little to bargain with, Orihime."

Fear was closing its fist around her heart. He was fast losing patience but she knew she must see this through to the end; an innocent man's life hung in the balance. Aizen wanted this one thing from her but he needed her cooperation. He could force her –they both knew that, but force wasn't his style. He'd much rather have her agree to his demands willingly, to tie her in the unbreakable bonds of her own promises.

She took a deep steadying breath and stated her terms. "Return my slave –unharmed and I will fully devote myself to Rangiku's training …without argument." If she must sacrifice her innocence for her slave's safety, then so be it.

Aizen weighed her words before giving her a slow provocative smile. "I'm glad you're beginning to see reason, my little bird."

She refused to return his smile; her decision gave her little joy. "And my slave?"

"He will be returned to you when his work in the stable is complete."

"Then at that time, I will do as you ask." Orihime lowered her head, trying to hide her expression. The stables –her slave was not only alive but also not too far away. She wondered if there was any way for her to see him –even though he would probably scowl at any woman audacious enough to worry over him. Well then, she just wouldn't let him see her …

"Lord Aizen, what are you doing in here?"

The sharply uttered question broke her concentration and put an end to her planning. Orihime turned her head to see the new servant standing just inside the room with her lunch tray, staring at Aizen with hostility and loathing. She began to fear for Nel until she realized he paid as much attention to a servant as he would an insignificant gnat.

Instead, Aizen reached into his robes and pulled out a rose. He threaded the stem into her hair above her ear. His lips lifted in a pleased smile as his gaze flitted along the length of her prone body. "This is my home, is it not? I go where I please. And do as I please."

It was true. Aizen was master of all in the fortress. His word was law. None would dare gainsay him. However, Orihime felt as if he directed these particular words at her –as a warning.

"I will come and visit you again tomorrow."

Orihime watched the corner of his mouth take on a mocking slant. Aizen knew she didn't want him to visit and he took delight in her discomfort. She was trapped; he left her with little choice but to say, "You honor me with your presence, my lord."

.

.

.

"Welcome back. How was your visit?"

Aizen smiled at Gin as he entered the large airy reception hall and resumed his seat at the table in the center of the room. "She wants him."

"That was quick." Gin's lips stretched into a wide grin as he tucked his hands into his sleeves and took up his place behind his lord's chair. "Everything is going just as you expected."

Nodding as if there was never any doubt, Aizen plucked an intricately carved figure from the nearby table. "It's almost time to move my queen into position, Gin."

"What will her knight do, fight or retreat from the field?"

Aizen flicked a black jasper piece from the board and placed the queen in his hand beside the white king. "He'll retreat and leave the queen broken and defenseless –just as planned."

**~o0o~**

A/N: Thank you for the overwhelming support you've shown for this fic. I can't tell you how much it motivates me to continue finding time to write. Thank you!

The next chapter is already over halfway finished and it shouldn't take too much to complete it. Thanks for reading ~Rairakku


	5. Chapter 5

**Slave to Her Passions**

Part 5: A Mutual Show of Concern

Bleach; Ichihime AU

Word Count: 3788

Warning: T+; mild adult situations

Disclaimer: all characters herein are the property of Kubo Tite.

**~o0o~**

Ichigo sat cross-legged on the dusty ground with the other stable slaves, eating a simple evening meal of flavorful strips of meat and rice heated on a small brazier. He remained unaware that elsewhere in the compound his life was being arranged on a chessboard as he scooped fragrant rice from a wooden bowl with a piece of bread.

While the others talked in hushed tones about a stable boy, he fought against the urge to wolf down his food, and instead, ate steadily and listened in silence. Apparently, the body he hauled beyond the fortresses walls yesterday was that of a recently purchased slave. Ichigo curled his lip at the reminder and tossed his dish into the bucket the kitchen supplied for just such a purpose, his appetite gone.

He needed some fresh air and headed for the door –only to be stopped by the thick arm of the foreman. Ichigo indicated he was only going the short distance to the stone well and was allowed to pass. With every move he made, he could feel the weight of many eyes following his progress as he lowered and then raised a brimming bucket from the well.

The cool water went a long way to washing away a thick layer of dirt and he wished it could wash away the memory of the slave's battered body as easily. By all accounts, the young man's only crime was to appeal to one of Aizen's soldiers, a sadistic man by the name of Tesla.

He'd heard that name before. But where?

Too tired to think about it now, he shelved the matter for the time being. His back ached and his mind was fuzzy. Ichigo had done rough physical labor before. However, two full days of backbreaking work in the stable, doing the most menial and filthy jobs imaginable, exhausted him as nothing had before.

The remaining water left in the bucket was poured over his head, dislodging little of the dirt and sweat from his scalp. He tilted his face up to the darkening sky and rolled the stiffness from his shoulders. Sleep would come easy tonight. Ichigo thought with a groan before freezing at the sensation of someone's eyes burning a hole in his back.

It wasn't surprising that Aizen had guards keeping a close eye on him; he noticed their stares earlier. This felt different though. He could practically feel rage and killing intent humming in the air. Grimmjow …

Ichigo dropped the bucket and straightened to his full height; shoulders back, eyes narrowed. A slow survey of the stable yard and surrounding training grounds turned up nothing but a battered handcart and a dark goshawk perched on the storehouse roof, looking for one last snack before night fell.

He couldn't see Grimmjow, but he knew he was out there, waiting, wanting to finish this. As did he. Ichigo was practically chomping at the bit. He wished he would show himself so he could challenge the filthy son of a jackal who captured him by the foulest means possible.

When Grimmjow attacked the unarmed caravan Ichigo was traveling in, the general realized after a prolonged battle that an easy victory was beyond his grasp. Instead, he turned his sights on the innocent group of people, pitting their lives against his surrender. Ichigo intended to pay him back for that, among other things.

The stable foreman's raspy voice cut through the gathering darkness, calling him back for night. Ichigo cursed under his breath at the interruption of his subsequent search and flicked his eyes to the big bull of a man standing just outside the stable before glancing once more over darkened line of arches cut into the neighboring buildings. With no clues as to Grimmjow's location, he returned to the musty smelling building that served as his new prison.

He would keep his guard raised from now on. It was an unlucky twist of fate he tucked his sword, along with the princess' dagger, under the thick mattress of her sleeping couch. Neither did him any good there. He needed a weapon now. Ichigo eyed the pitchfork leaning against the wall favorably and glanced from side to side before grabbing it and holding it close to his body.

With his makeshift weapon in hand, he slipped into the stall where he slept and buried it under the straw. If Grimmjow –or anyone else came for him in the night, they would soon wish they hadn't when they found themselves with a belly full of sharply carved tines.

Ichigo stretched out on his scratchy bed with his hands clasped behind his head and stared blindly up at the thick ceiling beams, waiting. Time passed slowly and his eyes burned with the need to close. They drifted shut –time and time again only to jerk open once more. Until, he heard the sound of sandaled feet shuffling against stone and the faint light of a shuttered lamp drawing closer. Ichigo's drowsiness vanished as he shifted to his side, fingers sliding into the straw.

The lantern was lifted high, spilling muted light over his face and Ichigo feigned sleep. He was tensed to attack when he noticed the unmistakable wheeze of the foreman's breathing. The big man was only making his nightly rounds. The moment the light withdrew, his eyes opened and his fingers loosened from around the handle of the pitchfork. Lucky goat didn't even realize he'd been seconds from being eviscerated. Ichigo listened as the corpulent man dragged his feet down the stone aisle before making a report to the passing patrol the slave was secured for the night.

They consider this secured? He laughed silently, knowing he could walk out of the building with minimal effort. The guard continued to talk with the stable master in hushed voices and Ichigo moved under a shuttered window set in the outside wall to eavesdrop on their conversation, hoping for some information he could use. Instead, talk centered once more on the young stable hand. He blocked it out, only listening with half an ear until he heard mention of the princess –and Ichigo's heart tripped.

He remembered where he'd heard Tesla's name. That murderous beast had been in the princess' room the afternoon he was taken away.

The dusty straw shifted under him as Ichigo slowly slid down the wall and to his back. Sleep evaded him as concern for the princess grew like a canker in his mind. He couldn't help but superimpose her face and body over that of the dead boy, bleeding and bruised, beaten beyond recognition. She was an innocent, painfully naïve, and under the questionable protection of only those two bickering women and the tattooed guard. Ichigo didn't have much faith they would offer the princess much protection.

He gave up on sleep and rolled from his pallet; he had to know if she was all right. Ichigo unlatched the stall's gate with care and knelt at the opening, listening for any sound from his stable mates, two legged or four. All was as it should be. The patrol continued with their rounds some time ago and rumbling snores came from the foreman's bed in the front corner.

Perfect.

The deep shadows inside the stable hid him from view as he slipped over the gate in back and followed the same path from the other night through the jumble of buildings. He would sneak into her room and assure himself of her safety, then return before anyone was the wiser. Nothing more, he promised himself.

Ichigo ducked through a low arch and crossed the wide marble terrace, his bare feet making nothing more than a whisper of sound as he rushed forward. He paused at the base of the stairs for only a moment before barreling ahead into the main garden when he sensed no one nearby. Thin bands of moonlight cut across the open courtyard and faintly illuminated the hidden door leading to the harem. He crouched down at the shadowy base of a fragrant cedar while he caught his breath and swiped his forearm over his sweaty brow. Ichigo stilled and wrinkled his nose –he was rank. He couldn't go to the princess' rooms stinking of horses and sweat.

He separated from the shadows and waded into the courtyard's white marble fountain fully dressed. He groaned at the feel of cool water lapping at his legs before ducking under to rake his fingers through his short hair, dislodging what remained of the dirt and straw from his day's work. Ichigo stood in the moonlight and shook the water from his hair before pulling his shirt over his head. With the thin fabric balled in his hand, Ichigo used it to scrub at his arms and upper body before dunking under the water once more. Sluicing water from his face and hair, he then went to work on wringing out his filthy clothes.

At the soft rustle of sound coming from the wall behind him, he was out of the water in an instant with shirt in hand. Ichigo peered around the tree he hid behind and watched as the harem door opened bit by bit enough for a shrouded figure to slip out. He thought moving deeper into the trees might be prudent, until he noticed something familiar about the woman creeping through the shadows in his direction. The reckless little fool …

Ichigo left his hiding place and tossed his bundled shirt aside. He stood in the middle of the path and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "What do you think you're doing here?"

The woman gasped in surprise at the voice coming out of the darkness and lowered her head, shielding her face with a veil as she passed. "Forgive the intrusion, I-I am merely on an errand for my mistress."

His lips twisted at her obvious falsehood. What a troublesome woman. "I didn't know princesses ran errands."

She took another step, froze, then whirled to face him. "How-"

Startled brown eyes stared up at him from over the edge of her dark veil. Ichigo would never admit he was happy to see her. However, even he could not deny a certain relief at seeing she suffered no lasting effects from her fall the other day and that his earlier concerns were groundless. She was fine, and he was a fool for worrying.

With that maddening thought in mind, he stepped closer, looming over her small frame. "I'll ask again. What are you doing here?"

He strained his ears, attempting to understand what mumbled excuse she offered for wandering outside the protective walls of the harem –alone –in the dead of night. It was forbidden, not to mention dangerous. Would this woman continue to bewilder him by always doing the unexpected?

"What was that again, princess?"

Orihime fidgeted under his sharp gaze, unspeaking until he moved even closer. Ichigo left only inches between them and unashamedly used his size to intimidate her. Her eyes dropped to his bare chest and a strangled moan slipped past her lips before she started to stammer.

"I-I was coming to see …to see you."

"You were coming to see me?" Ichigo repeated dumbly and relaxed his stance. A smile played at the corners of his mouth while he rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, and he regretted his earlier harshness –no matter how well deserved.

"Y-yes," Orihime twisted her fingers together as her eyes drifted to the side. "As my slave, I have a responsibly to make certain my p-property is being treated well."

His face fell, hardened. Her property? The warmth that spread through his chest at her unexpected arrival, cooled. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

"B-but there's something I need to talk to you about-"

"But nothing." His hand slashed out, cutting her off. He didn't want to hear any more. "Return to where you belong."

Her rounded chin jutted out and her eyes flashed with exasperation. "Rukia's right; you are insolent for a slave."

He shrugged his shoulders in indifference. "You think I care for either of your opinions?" The corner of his mouth curled and there was a hint of mockery in his gaze. "I've told you before; I am no slave, least of all a foolish woman's."

Orihime's eyes went wide, full of some nameless emotion before she hid her expression. Guilt coiled in his gut. Again. What was it about this woman that made him so defensive, so quick to lash out? This naïve princess twisted him in knots, making him think and feel thing he did not want. She frustrated him, aroused him, and unnerved him in equal measures.

"W-what are you doing here anyway?"

Ichigo looked up at her hesitant voice and argued with himself over telling her he had been worried about her. It reeked of a vulnerability he didn't want to own up to –especially not to her. So he said nothing.

Orihime fidgeted in the ensuing silence and stole a look at him before blurting. "I was told you were assigned to the stables."

His mouth dipped into an even deeper frown. Had she planned to sneak all the way down to the stables to see him? Impossible. Unbidden, his mind supplied a variety of images of what could have happened to her if she was found by anyone but him. Did she not have one ounce of self-preservation anywhere in that sweetly curved body?

The princess didn't need a love slave; she needed a keeper.

Ready to tear verbal strips from her reckless hide, his angry words died in his throat as he jerked his head to the side, tensing. There was someone else approaching. It was too early for the guards to make their rounds. Besides which, they would come from the west, not the south.

Instinctively, Ichigo wrapped an arm around the princess, holding her against his body as he pulled her deep into the dense grove of the trees. Footsteps drew closer, hardly making a sound against the stones of the courtyard. They moved cautiously as if stalking prey and Ichigo knew who it was almost immediately.

Blue hair glowed in the moonlight as Grimmjow stepped out of the shadows not far from where they stood only moments ago. Orihime gasped in recognition and Ichigo covered her mouth, warningly. The filthy son of a goat must have followed him. Now, he was not only unarmed, but the princess was indirectly in danger as well. This was not how Ichigo wanted to confront him.

His eyes swept the area methodically, looking for something he could use as a weapon when his gaze landed on the clothing he discarded at the edge of the fountain. Ichigo's hand fisted against the princess' back and he cursed under his breath. If Grimmjow noticed his shirt, he would find them in an instant.

Tensed for a fight, he was surprised when Grimmjow instead circled to the right of the fountain and moved deeper into the garden, never noticing the damp bundle lying close by. Ichigo slowly released the breath he was holding while the princess struggled in his arms, wordlessly asking to be let go. He kept an eye on Grimmjow's departing form and lowered his mouth to her ear, whispered for her to stay silent. They weren't out of danger yet. She shivered as his lips brushed against her skin, but obeyed.

Ichigo felt her tremble and realized just how close they were. Her soft breasts pillowed against his chest; each shuddering breath she took traveled from her through him. Too close, much too close, he chanted in his head even as the hand splayed low on her back slid to her gently rounded hip and pulled her even closer. The princesses swayed in his hold with a thready mewl of distress as the full length of her body was brought into contact with his. His sex rose, pressing against the softness of her stomach and they both froze.

No, no, no –a thousand times no. Ichigo cursed his undisciplined body. This was not right. By all accounts, they never should have been alone together, regardless of the warped plans Aizen's had in store for her. The princess was a good and chaste woman, and he should release her. Yes, he should release her, this instant. Now, if only his arms would comply.

Ichigo held himself very still and repeated his father's tenets of manhood in his mind, hoping thoughts of his asinine sire would dampen this drugging heat flaring to life between them. He was gradually winning against the driving need to pull the princess' shapely body tight against his, until she squirmed in his hold.

Sweet little vixen, she was playing with fire.

Unthinkingly, he touched his lips to her temple and he felt her pulse leap. This was madness, Ichigo thought even as he dipped his head to whisper another warning but instead traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue.

It was sweet, sweet madness.

Heat uncoiled like a whip, spreading warmth through his limbs, setting him aflame as the heady scent of her perfume rose between them. The smell of musk, roses, and heated skin wreathed his senses and drew him in. Their hated roles as mistress and slave slipped away, their shared enemy forgotten. Only the two of them existed in this place.

Moving solely by instinct, he dragged his hand away from her mouth and reached up to brush her veil aside. Not taking the time to admire that which he uncovered, Ichigo only wanted to taste, to explore, to feel more of this forbidden passion.

His teeth teased the sensitive spot below her lobe where her perfume was strongest. His heart stopped, stuttered, then started to race when her small hands moved restlessly over his bare chest, kneading and stroking.

Ichigo delighted in her touch. His lips slid down to caress her throat and the princess caught her breath on a sob, and held it. She made no effort to deny him, even going so far as to tip her head back to give him greater access, and he greedily accepted. He found the pounding pulse point at the base of her slender throat and he bathed it with lips and tongue before sucking lightly, marking her. Her slender fingers curled into his shoulders, clinging, and his body shuddered, throbbing. Y'Allah, he wanted …

The heavy iron ring on the harem door scrapped and rattled against wood, and Ichigo raised his head, feeling as if he'd just surfaced after being submerged in a dark otherworldly place. He shook away his confusion and put some much-needed space between him and the princess.

With the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, Ichigo narrowed his eyes as his forgotten adversary came back into sight. What did Grimmjow think he was doing even touching that forbidden door? And what was he doing getting distracted at such a time by a woman? Even if she was a beautifully enticing woman with the body of a houri, this was still unfamiliar territory behind enemy walls and she did not belong to him. Forgetting either -for even a moment- would lead to his death.

Ichigo inwardly cursed, irritated with her in this instance as much as himself. He forced himself to calm down and watched from under lowered brows as Grimmjow swept passed with an angry swish of his cloak.

"Curse you Kurosaki."

Ichigo stiffened at the general's growl, as did the princess. Grimmjow glanced around once more, his blue gaze trying to penetrate even the densest shadows before he disappeared through the southern gate to return to the barracks.

Before the reverberations of the gate closing died away, Orihime skittered away from his tense, hard body with a hand to her racing heart. She raised her eyes to see him watching and hesitantly asked. "W-who is Kurosaki?"

Now was not the time for talk. Ichigo no longer trusted himself around her. "Go." He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

"But do you know? I have questions and-" She made a move towards him and stopped at his hard look.

Did the woman not understand the precarious position she was in? She almost pushed him too far already. He could have her on her back and be between her spread thighs in a trice.

Ichigo hid those thoughts behind an impassive façade and sharply inclined his head toward the harem door when she made no move to leave. He would brook no resistance. In this, she would obey him. There were too many dangers afoot tonight, him being chief among them.

He clenched his jaw, fighting against the urge to look her way when he heard her footsteps finally move towards the door. Instead, he silently cursed himself and his still hard body. Where was his self-control? His father and others have been throwing skilled concubines and harlots at his head for years now and none tempted him as the innocent Orihime did. He didn't want to want her; he wasn't even sure he liked her. But his body was proving to be a mindless beast, and it found the princess hard to resist.

You'd better resist, or you might end up dead. He muttered before calling himself a fool as he gave into the urge to watch the princess tug at the iron-banded door. Her thin arms straining, Ichigo fought his natural inclination to help and was grateful when she pried the door open enough to slip inside.

Ichigo scooped his clothing from the flagstones with a heavy sigh and stared at the harem's closed door for a long moment before flicking his gaze to the left. He could see in his mind's eye the small door in outer wall he unlocked the other night. It really wasn't too far from where he stood now.

He clenched his shirt in his hand and shook his head and called himself a fool yet again before turning resolutely away, putting it from his mind. Ichigo didn't even question his willingness to stay.

Dashing through the shadows without looking back, his only intent was on returning to the stables before someone raised a hue and a cry over him gone missing. Then –with luck on the morrow, he could lose himself in mind numbing labor, forgetting about tonight's lack of self-control and the feel of the princess trembling sweetly in his arms.

Absorbed in his chaotic thoughts, Ichigo remained unaware of another set of eyes peering out from a nearby grove of citrus, where they had watched both the blue-haired general and the young couple with genuine interest.

**~o0o~**

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story, I am truly grateful for each and every message. I'd also like to say I'm sorry for the length of time it took me to update, but as an apology, I'll have another update ready soon. It was actually part of this chapter, but one part has been giving me fits for two weeks now and I decided to just post what I had done. As a very good friend reminded me, even if it's not what I had planned, it's still an update. Such a wise woman. :)

As always, thanks for reading. ~Rairakku


End file.
